


We Are The Forsaken

by JustIII



Category: Warframe
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 187,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustIII/pseuds/JustIII
Summary: The destinies of a pair of Warframe siblings and the rest of the organization intertwine in a long journey that will test their strength in all senses against a brand new enemy.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue: Two Stars on a Rainy Night

**Author's Note:**

> -I expect this work to get roasted into oblivion, don't hold back any criticism you might have.  
> -If I break the lore in certain ways, I blame my lack of familiarity with it. I know just about enough to write something down, but nowhere near as much as I think I should.  
> -Currently, I follow a 1000-words per day schedule, I don't know for how long I will be able to keep it up.  
> -Yes, I'm too ambitious, and yes, this might come bite me in the ass later on.  
> -This will keep receiving updates until the prologue, the 43 chapters and the epilogue have all been completed and fixed.  
> -English isn't my native language, sorry in advance for any grammar mistakes or certain parts that read weird.  
> Also, a massive thank you to all the people that have given this little story of mine a chance, and even more gratitude towards those that have stuck around as it's been progressing.
> 
> Edit: And now we're at 400 hits. Seriously, I cannot stop expressing how grateful I am that so many people have been interested in what I have to offer. Thank you and expect so much more in the future!
> 
> Edit 2: Alright this has garnered some popularity, so I might as well plug my Discord here if you feel like talking with me about the story or getting early sneak peeks and intel about what I'm writing. I could also use all the criticism and advice I can get :p
> 
> My Discord ID is III#3513

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All journeys have a beginning, this one starting with two siblings escaping from their fallen refuge as the rain soon comes to meet them and match their tragedy, but it doesn't last long, as Fate brings them a new start, one that will unleash a series of events that will change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing 18 chapters before the prologue. I'm doing some Tarantino-type shit right here (not really).

“Do you think they’re still following us?”

“I don’t think, I assure you they are.”

As the night falls, two siblings are forced to seek refuge behind a crumbling wall and piles of rubble. An army, Corpus, corporate bastards, marches away, their footsteps in unison resonating through the entirety of the now burning valley. They have done it, they seized yet another factory without much resistance, and now they leave with all their spoils stored in vehicles that follow the main troops by the side in a long convoy.

Victory is unfortunately a rare treat for both siblings, openly opposed to the ways of Profit and its cruelty, but it little matters when there isn’t much they can do on their own. No matter how hard they tried, this small fortress of theirs in particular had to perish sooner or later, what else did they expect if they were the only ones defending it? As a matter of fact, couldn’t they have anticipated such an invasion when they were foolish enough to set up base inside the remains of a factory?

Alas, either way, self-punishment will do nothing, they’ve already lost, and they’re forced to watch years of isolated work be claimed or taken away by their despised enemies. In the end, there was very little the two of them could have done, even given the might and power conceded by what they are.

Warframes.

The male frame breaks the silence with a heavy load of exasperation. “How much longer are we going to stay here? Come on, we need to go back and-!”

“Peace.” Says the female one in a calm, neutral tone, as she still stares at the parade that seems to have no end.

“Ugh, all of this is your fault and yours only, Aldebaran! Had we only seized that Orbiter and abandoned this place, we would’ve left the system hours ago! But no, you felt brave enough and dragged me into it as well! Are you happy now?! I lost my best Skana in that fight!”

“And I lost my shotgun, Betelgeuse.” The female, apparently named Aldebaran, interrupts him before he could say anything else “Be happy, now that you'll be able to excel, considering we have to try and sneak out of here.”

Betelgeuse, as it seems that’s his name, only shakes his head and sits down, and they both stay there, waiting for their foes to pass. Disappointment, despair, desperation, so many thoughts fill his mind as he now has nowhere to go to, unless he’s willing to accept being on the run for what looks like it will be a very long time. Aldebaran, meanwhile, isn’t as apprehensive of the idea. although maybe that’s a misinterpretation as she’s mostly focused on seeing the Corpus battalion leave the area, hoping for the love of any higher beings that might be watching over them that they don’t get discovered.

Eventually, a single drop of water that falls from the sky turns into two, three, five, tens, dozens, countless as the dark clouds begin to form up and bathe the surface.

“Rain now?! Great, just great!” Betelgeuse can’t stand any longer the situation he has been thrown into. “Get me out of here, or else-”

“Or else what? You’ll make a dozen more promises you’ll never live up to?” She stops him right on his tracks again, fed up with his whining and ready to snap some silence into his brain. Betelgeuse is taken aback by Aldebaran’s response, and finds himself unable to say anything else, bringing that small, but very much appreciated source of relief she needed in such a dire situation.

“I thought so.” She finishes, resting her back against a wall and nodding off into quiet, peaceful meditation.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asks in utter confusion.

“I want to catch a break, after all of this, at least that. Can you concede this very little thing to me just this once?”

“I don’t get it, how can you even attempt to relax here of all places, sis?”

“Please.”

Despite huffing with frustration and arms crossed, he ultimately gives her, apparently his sibling as well, that little pleasure, as short lived as it may end up being. He now sits with a wall opposite to her against his back, and trying his best to ignore the heavy rain pouring down from the skies. A large puddle of cold water doesn’t take long to form up right next to him, and despite his grumpiness, he gives himself a glance in the best mirror he can get right then and there, just to make sure he didn’t get too messed up physically during the real fighting.

Sighing with relief, he finds his helmet completely intact, its central cross shape going from the top of his forehead down to the chin, and to both of his temples, while the remaining pieces protrude like four nearly identical mounds of protection, all of it untouched and without a single scratch. The long coat over his shoulders that envelops and obscures everything down to his calves also doesn’t seem to have gathered any major rags, just a few bullet holes here and there, not too noticeable anyways in its dusk-like dark violet color, just like the rest of his armor.

As soon as he’s finished, he can’t help but feel just as worried about his sister’s status, facing up and sighing his tension away once again when he sees her near-immaculate form, her pristine white armor and cape with hints, spots and lines of strong orange divided in plates and covering her completely from the top of his neck down to her soles, has only gotten a few marks from whatever she might’ve bumped into. Her helmet is just as untouched, divided into several overlapping plates and pieces of metal, and two orange stripes, one that goes from the top of her head down to the upper end of her spine, and the second one positioned to look similar to a visor, but not functioning quite like one, since it’s just solid opaque metal, not see-through in the slightest.

After that, a half-hour that feels like an entire day to him passes, as they have no other choice but to wait out the withdrawing Corpus force, which although they’re not so massive, all the cargo they bring with themselves limits their movement speed quite a bit. Under other circumstances, this would make them a great target for a sabotage operation. What a shame. Once it’s over, however, the rain is over, and Aldebaran is the first one to notice, getting up and dusting off her armor and cape after a good few stretches.

“Are they gone?” Betelgeuse asks her in a somewhat drowsy tone, audibly affected by the boredom.

“This should be fairly obvious to you, Betelgeuse, you’re supposed to be an expert on stealth.”

“Y-yes, I knew it all along! I-I just wanted to know if you could figure it out without my help!” He bolts up to his feet and shakes off any and all dust, dirt and water drops he might have accumulated during his involuntary half-stasis. Aldebaran could only stare at him for a moment before walking away, not out of annoyance, but in a non-communicated hurry, not desiring to be there any longer.

“Hey, slow down, wait for me!” He goes after her and nearly stumbles when he steps on a particularly soft spot of the terrain, but keeps himself balanced before he can fall over and ruin his cloak. Before they could go too far, however, a mysterious ship descends from the sky, landing right in front of them.

“More enemies?!” Betelgeuse exclaims as he looks around desperately for any means to defend himself, but before he goes any further, the cargo bay door starts lowering. As the pressure stabilizes, a huge gust of wind comes out of the inside of the ship, making the Tenno’s capes flow rapidly. The sudden source of light from the inside forces the siblings to cover their eyes with their arms, but they slowly lower them when a familiar voice speaks to them as the light behind her back obscures the view.

“Greetings, Tenno. You may know me as the Lotus. Are you ready to come meet your new home?”


	2. I: First Day at Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two Warframe siblings head out in a mission with Valkyr, Ivara and Excalibur, just to make an unsettling discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time posting something here. This is bound to go wrong, I just know it.

“... And you, Tenno? Have you ever had to burn down a city for the cause?”  
  


With a sudden gasp, Betelgeuse wakes up panting from his slumber and looks around, reminding himself that he’s somewhere completely new to him now. He’s got a purpose to serve, a job to do, and he better do it damn well unless he wants to face the wrath of his sister. These thoughts send shivers down his spine, pulling an old patch from under his pillow. It’s an insignia, from a faction long forgotten, not even from the same era, yet he still holds onto it for some reason. Clutching his hand around it, he stares right in front of him and gets scared by his sister suddenly sitting right in front of him.  
  


“Holy, when did you-?!”  
  


“Shh, be quiet, you don’t want to wake up the others.”  
  


He breathes heavily and eventually calms himself down.

“I’m more likely to die of a heart attack caused by you than anything else, dear lord gracious.”  
  


“Lord? Since when? I thought you considered all those things to be dumb rhetoric.”  
  


“I… Have grown to appreciate the comfort it gives.”  
  


She nods quietly and stares around.

“All these people shouldn’t be strangers to us, yet…”  
  


“Don’t worry, I’ll never care about any Valkyrs, Ivaras or Excaliburs. We’re here because we have a job to do, and that’s all we have to keep in mind.”  
  


“You really know how to be comforting when the time is right, you know?”  
  


“I blame you for that trait.” He says in a playful, sarcastic tone. She can just shake her head and grab the hand pressing the insignia.  
  


“I know you’ll make me proud, Betelgeuse. Just make sure not to forget we’re part of a team now.”  
  


“I was about to tell you that same damn thing. Try to stay out of trouble, I can’t be watching your back all the time anymore.”

She nods quietly and climbs back up to her pod. The night doesn’t feel that cold for both of them anymore.

“Good night, Betelgeuse, and good luck on your first day.”  
  


“It’s your first day as well, don’t forget that.” And after a long sigh, he lies down again on his pod and forces himself into sleep.

The not-so-cold-anymore night passes just like that, quietly and without any more interruptions, as they both know they’ll have a pretty busy day tomorrow.

  
  
  


Preparing for deployment while you try to maintain balance as the turbulence hits your Orbiter isn’t an easy task, especially when you’re handling high-caliber equipment and potent explosives that could blow up mid-descent if you made the wrong move. Being treated as the newcomer doesn’t make it any easier, knowing that your fellows with way more experience than you are watching you, each and every single movement you make getting judged by them.

“Don’t pay attention to them.” Whispers Aldebaran to her brother.

Valkyr seems rather puzzled by something Aldebaran’s doing.  
  


“Why… Why are you taping your weapon to your hand?” She asks, genuinely confused.

“I have to keep a tight grip on it while I work. It could be a fatal mistake if I let go of it when I do my thing.”  
  


“Just make sure it doesn’t affect your firepower.” Says Excalibur from the back of the ship, sharpening his blade and getting up as the ship finally starts reaching the surface.

The cargo bay door is slowly raised, as the ship’s internal pressure balances with the planet. The Warframes check on their weapons for a last time before jumping out of their transport and onto the surface. Valkyr walks up to the front to say a few words.

“Remember the orders: Enter the facility, gather the data, eliminate any hostiles that get in our way, understood?”

The rest of them nod, which prompts a thumbs up of approval from her, and they all quickly move towards the nearby facility run by Corpus. The sandy terrain and the lightning storm make the short journey a bit more difficult than it should, but they manage to make it through mostly unscathed, thanks to their K-drives speeding up their travelling exponentially.

“Remind me that I have to clean up my boots from whatever that liquid waste was back there.” Says Ivara, still looking at her foot’s sole and the gooey substance that’s stuck to it. Excalibur can only shake his head and try to knock it off her foot with the opposite end of his Tipedo. He fails miserably.  
  


“So that thing’s really stuck, huh? I hope it doesn’t affect your performance too much.”  
  


“I can move just fine, don’t worry. I don’t think it’s hazardous, or else I would’ve lost my foot or even my entire leg already.”  
  


Valkyr announces they have finally arrived at their target. Hopping off their transports, the Warframes check on their weapons for the last time before starting the operation. Valkyr gives each one of them their instructions.

“Betelgeuse, I want you to sneak in and eliminate any targets that might notice our presence as we advance. Ivara, you will take care of the outside hostiles from a certain distance, and make sure the enemy can’t call for reinforcements. Aldebaran, you will accompany me and Excalibur through the main hall, our priority is to gather the data at any cost. Understood?”  
  


They all nod once again and separate to do their respective tasks. Betelgeuse seems particularly excited about his job.  
  


“I’m going to love this! They’ll be so surprised once they see they have no targets left to take down, as I will have taken care of them by the time they reach the main hall!” Having said this, he draws his modified Vectis and adjusts the scope, waiting for his teammates to break in to start wreaking havoc.

Seconds of silence pass, and if the Warframes could breathe, that would be the only thing what would be heard at that moment. He tries his best to remain composed, but… He can’t help but get shaky hands, the pressure of this simple mission already overwhelming him. A familiar, motherly voice speaks to him through the intercom.

“Tenno, Are you feeling well? You seem stunned by something.”

“I-I… E-everything will be fine, y-yeah… I just… N-need to… Calm down and focus, right?”  
  


“We need you in optimal condition.”  
  


“I’m ok, I promise. I just need to assimilate what’s currently happening.”  
  


“Understood. Good luck to you and your team, Tenno”

The intercom turns off, and he just huffs and shakes his head.

“I hate that bitch. _‘Oh look at me I’m y’alls mother’_ shut up! You’re just annoying, nothing else to it!”

Valkyr hears him through the intercom.  
  


“What are you talking about, Betelgeuse?”

“A-ah, nothing! Nothing at all!”  
  


“Keep your personal matters to yourself, could you?”

He can only deliver a nod full of shame and turn off communications, bathing in the new silence that this brings. 

Inhale, exhale… That would be fantastic advice, but unfortunately, it’s useless for them. An elite, battle-hardened sniper like him shouldn’t be giving in to his tremors so easily. It’s an act of dishonor, right?

Meanwhile, the small squadron of Valkyr, Excalibur and Aldebaran keep advancing through the large hallway without any opposition. Valkyr seems puzzled by this.  
  


“Where are the hostiles? You would expect them to put a fierce defense to protect their data. Any thoughts, Excalibur?”  
  


He can only shrug whilst looking around.

“This could be a bad sign. Maybe they already left with all data already purged. This could be a red herring, the perfect setup for a trap.”  
  


“Have faith” says Aldebaran, barely holding her shotgun at waist height “Corpus can be crafty at times, however, they’re still run by greedy corporate heads that seek nothing but profit.”

Excalibur nods and goes to the front of the formation. Valkyr stays back, watching for anything that might come from behind, still holding some curiosity for the strange scenario.

“Everything’s way too perfectly planned… Lotus.”  
  


“Yes, Tenno?”

“What do we know about the functions this facility served?”

“It was last registered as a factory for high-caliber weapons and explosives. Although the strategic importance of this facility is minimal, the data that was last detected in here about sixty hours ago revealed mysterious activity in the vaults.”

“Vaults? They also stored their products in here, risking their entire business operation?”  
  


“They were completely emptied for unknown reasons, the signals were detected after they had sacked them.”

Excalibur seems surprised by this information.

“How do we know they didn’t turn this entire factory into a massive bomb?”  
  


“These facilities are too valuable for them to do that. They left all the heavy equipment inside, they wouldn’t risk losing those to an explosion.”

“These pieces just don’t fit together-wait, I heard something.”  
  


Excalibur trots ahead and checks his ammo count. If he’s lucky, he won’t have to use his skana to take matters into his own hands. The squad arrives at the vaults, huge box-shaped rooms of thick, shining steel walls. Aldebaran calls her brother through the intercom.

“Betelgeuse?”

“In position.”

He has indeed shifted his position closer to the vaults, but he barely has them covered from the angle he’s in.

“Damnit, I’ll have to exit the vent to be able to give you better fire support.”  
  


“Don’t you even move from there, you hear me?” Says Valkyr. He gives her a huff as a response.

“Unfortunately there are no targets here for me to shoot down…”

The squad keeps moving forward, eventually reaching the central computer than used to control the vaults.

“I’m in” says Excalibur “I have data about… a… a... “

“Tenno? Tenno, what’s wrong?” Asks Lotus through the intercom. The veteran frame can only step away from the computer and stand there in silence. Valkyr looks at the screen and has a very similar reaction, but she dares speak up and say something.  
  


“It’s… A special project… P-Project Diomedes.”

There’s no response through the intercom. The data’s eventually uploaded, but the frames don’t move from their spot. After a heavy sigh, Valkyr says:

“... They made a Warframe…”

The main objective has been accomplished, but… The veterans can’t help but look down to their feet in defeat. Aldebaran doesn’t, though, as she keeps looking around unaffected by this information. After a few moments, Excalibur shakes his head and walks towards the first vault, which has gone pitch black after the date got uploaded. He looks into the room, and finds it to be empty. He turns around and walks back.

“Everything is clea-”  
  


But before he can finish his sentence, a scattered shot takes down his shields and sends him flying to the other side of the room. His two comrades raise their arms and aim at the vault’s entrance, from where a small trail of smoke is coming. They take a couple steps back, waiting for their target to emerge from the darkness.  
  


And then, it finally happens. Their new enemy jumps out of the dark at an incredible speed, making them unable to land even a single shot on it, and raising its foot, Valkyr sees herself stomped against the cold steel floor by this foe. Now that it isn’t moving as quickly, they can look at its features with more clarity. Its body is distinctively female-shaped, but the armor design is very messy, full of rough shapes and clumsy forging at some spots, almost like pieces of metal carelessly put against each other. Her helmet is barely another metal piece with the barest hint of any shape. She could be mistaken for just one more Grineer amongst many, but she at least has a vague semblance of a humanoid body, albeit buried under such shameful craftsmanship. The sight is embarrassing, like an attempt at mocking the Warframes in the worst possible way. However, their enemy is very real, and threatening as well, and she starts moving again just as Excalibur starts rising back up to his feet.

Their foe raises her shotgun again and aims at Excalibur, ready to deliver the killing blow, but Aldebaran reacts quickly and fires a potent shell at her side, which tears down her shields and disrupts her focus, allowing Excalibur to draw his Exalted Blade and respond with a dash forward and a slash that lands right on her chestplate, leaving a deep cut on the metal. This doesn’t phase her much, however, as she’s already raising her gun once again and preparing to fire back at them. Valkyr rolls back to her group and they all aim their weapons at her.

“W-who are you?!” asks Valkyr, visibly conflicted by the sight upon her. She doesn’t respond, and instead keeps her weapon raised and aiming at her. But, to her surprise, she doesn’t fire, and instead dashes forward and claws at Aldebaran, even if she has to take a point-blank shot on her already damaged chestplate. Her claws easily trespass Aldebaran’s thin shield layer and cut through her neck, drawing the first blood and even more starts pumping out of her fresh wound. Aldebaran pushes her away and stumbles backwards, dropping to a single knee and pressing her hand over her rapidly-bleeding injury. Excalibur steps in front to give her cover, twirling his blade incessantly and leaving a trail of pure energy around himself. He is not going to let this thing injure anyone else, and he steps forward, leaping at great speed, slashing horizontally, only for her to step out of away with just as much, if not even greater swiftness, firing another shell at him that lands on his leg, taking him down as he tries to crawl back to his squadmates’ position.

Aldebaran, however, and despite the grave wound that she has to endure, staggers back up to her feet and raises her shotgun, loading it with more shells and stepping forward to face her. She might not be able to speak right now, but she has enough courage to ignore the blood that rolls down her neck to her back and chest and point her weapon at such fearsome foe. She pulls the trigger, and what she sees as an abomination steps out of the shot’s trajectory, firing back at her. She dodges it as well, starting a back-and-forth between them two as they fire shell after shell at each other, never managing to land any.

They go on like this for at least 30 seconds, until they start slowing down drastically, proving to be each other’s match, even if one of them is bleeding out profusely. Having definitely grown tired of playing around like this, the makeshift Warframe drops her unloaded weapon aside and unleashes her claws.

“‘Baran!” Valkyr yells “Look out!”  
  


And after having said this, she rolls right in between them two, stopping them from going against each other. She aims her rifle at the almost-beastly frame, holding her finger-claw steady and ready to pull the trigger at anytime. However, her target just… Stands there, completely static and staring at her for no apparent reason. She doesn’t seem to be looking _through_ her at all, but rather… Captivated by seeing her upfront.

“W-what the… Why aren’t you moving? Respond!” Valkyr says very confused, but the mysterious frame still doesn’t respond to any of her or anybody’s questions. It doesn’t… Seem to want to attack anymore. Excalibur seizes the opportunity and powers through his wounded leg to stumble out of there with Aldebaran. This, however, seems to activate the frame’s killer instinct once again, as she suddenly turns her head to look at them as they move away. They enter the long hallway, just as the mysterious frame starts running towards them. She deploys her razor-sharp claws once again, just as Valkyr aims and is ready to shoot her, but an ear-deafening bang stuns everyone in the area. When everyone recovers, the hostile frame is leaning against one of the walls with her shields torn down. A clear, straight trail of smoke can be seen, and it came from the air vent where Betelgeuse is hiding. Valkyr doesn’t want to waste this opportunity, but she receives another call through the intercom.  
  


“Valkyr? Tenno, can you hear me? Do not eliminate this target.”  
  


“Lotus? Lotus, what the hell do you mean?! Don’t you see what she’s tried to do to us?! Can’t you see what she’s _done_ to us?!”

“The information this… _Object_ can provide us with will be exponentially greater as long as we keep it alive. We cannot afford to lose this source of invaluable data.”

Valkyr couldn’t believe what she just heard. Did Lotus really see the abomination they’re facing right now? How could she want something like that alive?

“And do not disobey my orders, Tenno. Understood?”  
  


Valkyr hesitates for a moment as the mysterious frame approaches her comrades like a beast playing with its prey. At the end, though, she knows she has no choice.  
  


“U-understood, Lotus… V-Valkyr out.”  
  


She ends the call between stuttering and repressed anger, and forces herself to pull down her rifle. However, she isn’t going to let such thing do as she pleases.

“I hope this works…” Valkyr tells to herself, and then proceeds to let out a whistle as loud as possible, filled with nervousness and the thoughts of what could happen to them if it doesn’t work.

But it does. Once again, the frame stands there paralyzed, just staring at her and doing nothing, not even moving a single inch. Betelgeuse takes advantage of this, and fires his modified Vectis once again. The monstrous frame had her shields down, so the shot passes through her plating and makes a dent on her skull, taking her down instantly. Betelgeuse lets out a very audible sigh of relief that is heard through the intercom.  
  


“Let's get out of here already before she loses any more blood, assholes!”  
  


Valkyr, however, doesn’t want to move at all. She just stands there, speechless, looking at the unconscious frame while the others keep stumbling away from there. Betelgeuse jumps out of the vent and helps his sister out of the facility, and Valkyr remains behind, questioning everything she’s seen that day.

“... T-that thing... Is one of us…”


	3. II: Babysitter For The Mourning Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a (not) successful mission, the Warframes had back to base to recover from their injuries and look back at what just happened.

“So, Lotus? Will you finally explain to me why you didn’t want her dead? That  _ abomination _ ?!”   
  


Valkyr’s having a pretty heated discussion through the intercom, now that she’s back at Fortuna. Standing right next to a nearby fountain, she keeps bombarding Lotus with questions upon more questions, not even giving her enough time to respond to all of them properly.

“Valkyr, I need you to calm down first before I can answer any of your questio-”

“Calm down? Calm down?!” She asks, interrupting her and getting progressively more worked up “Are you seriously telling me to calm down after seeing such a thing and not being able to get rid of it because I had to follow your damn orders?!”

The Lotus falls silent for a few seconds. This only gets Valkyr even angrier.   
  


“Hello?! Will you respond or are you that much of a bi-!”   
  


“As I said when you were still inside the facility, Tenno, this subject can offer us more information in life than…  _ She  _ ever could in death. We need to keep her alive and register all the data she can give us. This one is an unique specimen, one we cannot afford to lose, not right now, and not anytime soon.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?! A bunch of stupid information is more important to you than us, your agents, the ones that actually agreed to obey you and follow your orders unconditionally!”

“And as such, if you really agreed to obey and follow my orders, you will listen to me right now, or are you that insubordinate, Tenno?”   
  


Valkyr tries to respond, but chokes in her own words and places her hands on both sides of her head, clearly frustrated by what she’s hearing.

“J-just… Tell me what we saw in there.”

“What you and your team found, Tenno, was an unique individual. She didn’t look like anything we had ever fought before, but thanks to her behavioral patterns and her fighting style, we could identify her as something similar to you. A… Makeshift Warframe of sorts.”   
  


Valkyr remains silent, processing all she’s just been told.   
  


“S-so… You’re telling me that thing is what we were looking for? Is  _ that  _ what Project Diomedes was all about?”   
  


She can see the Lotus nod calmly through the intercom before she opens her delicate mouth to speak again.

“Project Diomedes established different specifications for her appearance, behavior and role in combat. The most likely hypothesis as to what happened is that whoever tried to create her established these specifications as a template, but when it came to the execution, something must have gone very wrong, and their result ended up rough, botched and suboptimal.”

Valkyr shakes her head and sits down on the edge of the fountain, staring down at her feet. She still just doesn’t believe what she faced back there could be considered a Warframe, just like her and her comrades.

“How could such thing be a Warframe? She acted like a total fiend!”

“Looks can be deceiving, Valkyr.”

“Not in this case! I’ve seen feral kubrows behave with more sense than her!”

Lotus thinks about her response for a moment, giving Valkyr enough time to look at her own reflection in the water.

“I know this is hard for you to process, Tenno, but I need you to understand, this is critical information for us right now, we cannot lose her.”

“H-how… How is she like one of us? Did you look at her? She was horrifying! I just can’t accept it, how such a thing could be one of us when she’s that beastly, that deformed, that flawed...”

“Do you still consider yourself a Warframe, Tenno?”   
  


Valkyr raises her gaze, surprised by the Lotus’ question.   
  


“Huh? Repeat that, please.”

“I’m asking if you still think you’re a Warframe.”

“W-well, yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Even when you were torn apart and robbed off your armor?”

Valkyr once again doesn’t know how to respond.

“How is she, then, any less of a Warframe than you are, Valkyr?”

“W-well, she… Uh… She, uhm… S-she just isn’t one of us, it’s as simple as that!”

She can hear Lotus sigh and start another call.

“My apologies, Valkyr, but I have to hang up for now. Please take care, and remember, do  _ not  _ hurt her if you ever come across her again, understood?”

“I don’t promise anything.”

The Lotus just shakes her head and ends the call. Valkyr takes a moment to get used to the sound of everything around herself that she didn’t hear during the call.

“Valkyr?”   
  


Then, she turns her head towards a familiar voice. It’s Excalibur, and he seems to have recovered quite quickly from the shots he received on his leg, although a slight limping can still be perceived in his walking. She waves at him and pats a spot right next to her on the edge of the fountain, inviting him to sit next to her. He accepts her offer, and they hug briefly once he’s sitting down.

“I see your leg has recovered at an astounding rate, Excalibur.”

“I couldn’t let a simple gunshot take me down that easily, could I?”

“Yeah, that would’ve been very embarrassing, but I’m glad you made it out fine.”

“Were you expecting anything else from me?”

She brings her hand to her chin and pretends to think for a moment. Excalibur can only shake his head as a response to this.

“I’d say that is a bit disrespectful if we didn’t know each other so well, Valkyr.”   
  


“What can I say? I know you’ll never be able to surpass my swiftness.”

“Yeah, very swift, whenever you’re not in a fit of rage.”

They both let out a chuckle at his comment.

“So, Excalibur, how are the others? Is the rookie still recovering from her wound?”

“I’m afraid so. She only managed to keep herself going with her energy reserves, after getting her neck cut that way and so deeply. She’s getting treated inside her cryopod right now, and her brother hasn’t wanted to move away from her at all. You could say the bond they share is stronger than any alloy we could make.”

“And that explains why she only kept herself so active and mobile for such a short period of time.”

Excalibur nods at her conclusion.

“If you remember what her resume said, Aldebaran’s specialty is extreme amounts of damage dealt in very small time frames. That’s how she managed to keep up with the frame we met in the facility, even when she was bleeding out rapidly.”

Valkyr takes a moment to think about this.

“If she hadn’t taken that risk for us, even knowing she was badly wounded and rapidly losing blood, that thing would’ve…”

“Don’t think too much about it. Gratitude is a great thing, but not when it’s accompanied or overcome by remorse. It was also part of her duty, so she had to take that risk in one way or another for the sake of the entire squad.”

Valkyr nods, making sure to keep in mind what he just said.   
  


“By the way, how has the other rookie taken what happened to his sister?”   
  


“Betelgeuse? Well, the kid has handled it with much peace and maturity. This definitely wasn’t their first ride together that ended with one of them severely wounded. He’s still stuck close to her, though, even when she’s recovering inside her cryopod. You don’t get to see that connection and loyalty to such a degree too often.”

“Do you think it might be harmful?”   
  


“No, or at least not right now. This bond might prove to be beneficial for both of them in the long run, but only time will tell.”

“I suppose it will.”

As it seems, it will indeed. It’s the third time that day that Betelgeuse goes visit his sister, and this time he even bothered to bring her a little gift. Once he finds a free docking spot for both their ships, he walks out into Fortuna and then enters his sister’s orbiter.

“I’m back, ‘Baran!”

The only response he receives is the quiet humming of their ships’ engines. He chuckles and shakes his head, walking towards Aldebaran’s cryopod.

“Of course there is no response, what else was I expecting you to do? Speak to me while you’re still submerged in all those medical fluids? That would be silly.”

He steps closer to her, and lowers his gaze towards his left hand, which holds the gift he brought her.

“Oh oh, I also brought you a little something. You always seemed captivated by these plants with little spines that we always saw when we were in the desert, so I went to Cetus and found a small one. It even has a flower on top, see? The locals from the area call it ‘cactus’, I think you’ll find it very pretty.”

He just stands there waiting for an unlikely response. A few moments later, he finally gives up sighing and places the cactus next to the navigation board in her cockpit. Afterwards, he grabs a nearby stool and sets it in front of the cryopod, sitting on it and just watching his sister float in the cryomedical fluids. More silence follows, as Betelgeuse just sits with an awkward posture and with his hands on his knees, looking around waiting for time to pass on its own.

“Y-you know, you gave me a good scare back there, I thought for a moment that the worst was going to happen, but it didn’t. You made it through, and now you’re here. Well, at least for once I was the one that saved your ass, and not the other way around.”

More silence follows. Betelgeuse clears his throat and gets up from the stool, taking two steps forward and carefully placing a hand over the glass of his sister’s cryopod.

“I… I think we made a good first impression. I don’t know if you care about that or not, but…”

He swallows and looks at the floor for a moment, trying not to choke in his own words. His hands seem slightly shaky, and his posture holds even less pride than it did just a few moments ago.

“I lied to them… Didn’t I? I made them believe I can cope with this, when I really can’t. Seeing you like this, so quiet so peaceful, yet so damaged, and so vulnerable… It hurts, it really,  _ really _ does… But it mostly hurts to have to be on my own like this. It’s terrifying, the only person I was friends with rests inside this damned thing. I’m way more comfortable with you around, and I hate to admit it…”

He raises his face again and looks at his sister, still in a deep slumber.

“I… I hope you’re listening to all I’m saying… But I kind of don’t want you to at the same time.”

He fixes his posture and places his other hand on the cryopod glass door, letting out a small chuckle still filled with pain.

“It’s funny… After all these years, it seems I still need my babysitter to stay by my side to keep me calm and safe. When will I ever learn to grow out of that, I wonder… D-do not get me wrong, I really do appreciate all you do for me, but it seems I can’t really function at full capacity without you around… Why am I even saying all these things to you? Your cryostasis most likely impedes you from hearing anything I’m saying. I just… I don’t know...”   
  


He passes his hands over his head and face, sitting again on the stool and just staring down to his own feet. He lets out yet another sigh and speaks up with an exhausted voice.

“Sorry, I really shouldn’t rely so heavily on you like this, it’s not healthy. I guess I just can’t help it. Make sure to come back to action as soon as possible, and please do not oversleep, that’s what I do all the time, not you.”

He finally gets up stretching, and walks towards the exit. Before stepping out, he looks back and takes a last glance at Aldebaran’s cryopod. She still floats peacefully in the slightly darkish blue liquid, and her vitals still remain consistent and under control.

“Stay safe, sis. I’ll see you again very soon, or at least I hope I will.”

With that said, he finally steps out of the ship. Once the door retracts and closes, he turns around and walks away, just to get startled by another Warframe standing right in front of him. The scare is big enough to make him stumble and fall backwards, landing on his behind.

“Holy Lord, where did you come from?!”

The Warframe only shakes her head and offers him a hand. He takes it and gets back up to his feet.

“Seriously, couldn’t you warn me that you’d appear out of nowhere like this or something?”

“My apologies, I tend to forget how silent I can be with my movement sometimes. I suppose you are one of the two newcomers. Betelgeuse, right?”   
  


“Yes, that’s me. And you are…?”

“Call me Banshee, and don’t worry, I promise I’m more friendly than this introduction.”

“You better be!” Says Betelgeuse, getting back up to his feet.

“So how’s everything going? I heard your sister got badly wounded in your first mission.”

Betelgeuse’s posture shrinks slightly upon hearing this.

“W-well, yeah, she really did. That  _ creature  _ slashed an entire chunk off her neck, and the bloody mess she left behind looked like an entire massacre had gone down in that facility. It wasn’t a pretty sight at all.”

Banshee flinches a bit upon hearing this.

“How did she keep herself running for a few more seconds, then?”

“She had some energy saved up, which she used to power up her systems to move as fast as possible just to protect us, and adrenaline can make you do crazy things sometimes.”

Banshee nods understandingly and asks:

“Were you worried during those few seconds?”

This question surprised Betelgeuse

“Well… I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel at least just a little bit concerned. Hell, even that would be a hell of an understatement. She’s my sister, after all.”

“Yes, I can see why you two are so close. Actually, you two are the first siblings that have joined our forces.”

“Really? No one else here is related to someone else?”

Banshee shakes her head and points around at the entire station.

“Everybody in here is on their own, in that sense. You two are lucky to still have each other.”

Betelgeuse didn’t seem too sure about that, he kept quiet for about ten seconds or so before responding still with some sheds of doubt in his voice.

“We… I guess we make for a good duo, even if we tend to disagree quite often.”

“You don’t get along with her too well?”

“No, no! On the contrary, we are very close with each other, it’s just that… Our methods are wildly different, I guess.”

Banshee nods once again. The mood hasn’t gotten particularly awkward, but it still is a bit of an uncomfortable silence that Betelgeuse forces himself to break.

“S-so… I suppose I’ll see you around?”

“Well, yeah, maybe we’ll meet on a mission at some point in the near future. See you.”

After having said her goodbye, she finally walks away. Betelgeuse allows himself to let out a long sigh of relief, wondering how he didn’t have a panic attack and managed to keep himself together during that entire conversation.

“Great, it seems I also need you to handle social interactions, ‘Baran. I just hope you’re proud of yourself for being such a babysitter for your younger brother. What the hell, the age gap isn’t even that large.” He says to seemingly no one, as he too starts walking from the docks into the inner station.

While all these conversations had been happening, a ship was quietly orbiting Venus with its engines at minimum power. A man walks down the long hallway towards the cockpit, followed by his robotic companion. He looks out the window, down to the planet right below, sighing and sitting down on his pilot seat. He receives a call, and a large meeting board shows up on the screen when he picks it up. The man at the center of the table turns his chair around to look at him and speaks up.

“Alad?”

The man sitting in the pilot seat looks up to the screen. Some of the men around the table have noticeable frowns on their faces, while others give him blank stares while their boss keeps talking.

“Our informants told us about the incident at the Tessera factory. We were glad you had sacked the facilities from all compromising data they could’ve used against us, just as the protocol indicates.”

Alad is about to cock a wide grin upon hearing this, but the man isn’t done speaking yet.

“However…”

That single word manages to turn Alad’s imminent pride into slight worry, pulling up his left hand that was petting his companion up to his chin.

“They also found two very incriminating things. The first one, long trails and small puddles of blood where the terminal was located, alongside damage on the walls and the floor itself. Would you mind offering us an explanation?”

Alad didn’t dare say anything for a few seconds, but he finally responded once he came up with something:

“I think maybe one of my agents visited the place at the wrong time, unfortunately meeting an undesirable fate when he came across unexpected guests.”

The members of the meeting board nod in silence, which seems to be a positive enough reaction for Alad to feel relieved.

“Yes, yes, that sounds very plausible indeed, Alad… But I’m afraid that won’t cut it.”

Or not. He seems to be agonizing in anguish once again, wishing that the call ended right there and then without anything else being said. Unfortunately for him, it isn’t.

“Your story sounds very convincing, Alad, I’m not going to deny that. Perhaps I would’ve believed you under other circumstances, but I’m very afraid that isn’t the case here. You see, there was something else that our scouts managed to extract from the scene, and that is a particular recording. The terminal’s emergency camera still had some power left, and when it detected a bit of… Misbehavior close to it, it started recording. Thanks to that, we obtained a very interesting clip, although you may find it to be fairly  _ incriminating _ , to say the least.”

Alad gulps and is about to say something, but the corporate chief continues.

“We found Warframes in the recording, Alad. That doesn’t sound like that much of a new, I know, especially because all of them are ones we had already identified. However there was an extra…  _ Something _ that caught our attention.”

Before Alad can even respond, a picture opens up on his screen. It’s an image from that same clip, it seems, with Aldebaran bleeding out, a limping Excalibur, and a panicking Valkyr. It would’ve been worth a sigh of relief for him, hadn’t it been for the thing that was right next to them. It was another Warframe, but nowhere near as swift or elegant as the others, even if her body shape appeared to be feminine. Her armor was little more than just chunks of metal forged against one another, making for a very careless, ugly craft compared to the rest. The corporate head figures, however, didn’t seem too amused by the sight, especially the boss at the middle of the table.

“Could you please explain to us how this came to happen even though you told us you made sure to take all the safety measures that had to be taken?”

Alad lowers his face and doesn’t dare answer his question.

“I thought so. Alad V, we gave you permission to work on your little Project Diomedes, but under the explicit condition that the Lotus and the Warframes could not find out about it until we told you the time was right, and we are pretty sure the Tessera Incident wasn’t the right time to do it. Why, then, was your creation found in the footage, fighting against the Warframes?”

Still no response from him. The boss can only sigh and keep flipping a coin as he speaks.

“Had it been any other person, this would’ve been considered high treason, and they would’ve been executed right on the spot, but… We are willing to give you a second chance. This will be your last opportunity to redeem yourself, so you better not throw it away, understood?”

Alad nods quietly, still not daring to look up to the screen.

“If you make such monumental mistake once again, we… We’ll have to do what must be done. You better not disappoint the Profit, Alad.”

And with that, the call ends, the entire ship being permeated by near silence, the only sound that really sticks out is the subtle purring of the engines. Alad looks down again to Venus, wondering what his next move will be.

“Deinos! Come here, if you please.”

A mysterious female emerges from under the shadows covering the ship’s main hallway. It turns out to be the mysterious Warframe covered in chunks of metal for a makeshift armor. She walks up until she’s right next to him, staring down to the planet right underneath them.

“Objective completed. Well done, your first mission was a roaring success. I’d say the data we gathered and the impact we caused is a blatant display of what our future results might turn out to be, so I’m feeling quite optimistic for what lies right ahead for us. It was definitely worth the scolding from the Board of Directors, at the very least.”

The Warframe, whose name’s apparently Deinos, just nods quietly as a response. Alad sits there, thinking while he looks at the stars. One of the screens on his navigation board starts flashing. He opens a message he just received, a broad smile suddenly appearing on his face.

“I think you’ll enjoy this one. See this place? This is where your next target is located. I’ll upload the rest of the details into your inbox as we descend to the installation, although… Would you mind being a bit more discrete this time? I think that will help you very much on this mission.”

Deinos nods once again, but finally pronounces a few words to him.

“The skinless… She will get on my way...”

“Her? Please do not hurt her. I don’t think she’ll listen to you, but try to stay focused. I don’t want to have to fix your skull again, do you have any idea of just how expensive that process is?”   
  


He takes a hold of the star chart and points at their next destination, and the ship automatically starts descending back into the planet’s atmosphere.


	4. III: Forgotten, but Not Forbidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyr, Oberon, Ivara and Limbo storm a Corpus facility only to find the most intriguing of surprises inside.

Turbulence usually isn’t an issue when you’re descending into the atmosphere, spaceships are expected to be able to handle it just fine. It might be a slight disturbance for people that try to rest or catch some sleep, but who really does that when they’re about to drop onto the surface? The Warframes definitely don’t need sleep like any other mortal creature would. Four Orbiters descend together in a tight formation, and their pilots keep speaking to each other through shared communications. Valkyr once again leads the group, this time followed by Ivara, Oberon and Limbo. Valkyr’s giving her team the information about the artifacts they’re meant to defend until extraction arrives.

“I still do not get it, why didn’t she want to tell us what exactly is it that we are going to protect?” Limbo asks, expressing concern in the air of mystery the mission contains “We know we have to secure the entrance to another Orokin vault, but what is behind the door?”

Valkyr shakes her head again. That has to be the fourth time he’s asked that exact same question since they were given their orders.

“How about this? You stay calm, quiet and don’t ask this question again, and maybe, just maybe the Lotus will tell you what this is about when we get back to the station. Does that sound good to you?” She asks in a condescending manner. He huffs and looks away as a response.

“Fine, but this better be worthwhile in the meantime.”

Checking his Akvasto again, he notices they’re missing a couple bullets in their drums. Feeling somewhat confident, he tosses bullets into the air, catching them all with his guns’ drums.

“What a showoff” Says Ivara, not really sounding impressed by this little display. Oberon isn’t either, and Valkyr’s too focused on the mission details to even bother.

“Any other info, Valkyr?” Asks Oberon “How many hostiles are guarding the dig site right now?”

“Not as many as you’d think, actually. That could indicate they’re trying to go for a more discrete approach.”

“Why didn’t they play it safe? That’s way too high of a risk, especially when you consider they’re trying to protect a set of Orokin ruins.”

“Well, the excavation is very close to the Orb Vallis,” Ivara comments, looking down to the snowlands around them “committing too many forces in this location could have caught anyone’s attention very easily around this area.”

Limbo looks like he has something else to add to the matter, but he drops it when they finally reach the surface. The cargo bay doors of their ships open, all of them jumping out and inspecting their surroundings. The tundra around them is very plain and vast, allowing them to spot anything in a twenty-mile radius with remarkable ease, and it doesn’t take them too long to find what they’re looking for. Seven massive white arches, at least a hundred and twenty feet tall and with a perfect 180-degree curvature, with golden accents and decorations, all of them leading to the entrance of a basalt cave. The great passage under them seems fairly guarded by Corpus crewmen and Moa walkers, although not as many as they’d usually expect from them. Each arch has been locked with a special hardlight barrier, both through their openings and the empty spaces on the top right between them, which Corpus personnel can pass through with ease.

“Something tells me it won’t be as easy for us to get through them.” Oberon points out “We’ll need someone to infiltrate and deactivate the barriers. There should be a console inside that controls them.”

Ivara hefts her bow upon hearing this, and Oberon gives her the nod of approval she needs to jump into action. She jumps over rocks, boulders and pillars until she reaches an unguarded air duct, pulling the small gate off and dropping in. The conduct is tight and quite long, so it might take her some time to get through.

“This is very dark, quite narrow, and oddly humid as well. They must be doing something suspicious inside, digging can’t create this much humidity.”

Oberon thinks for a moment about this. There could have been water deposits under the surface, but that doesn’t sound too plausible in such a frozen terrain. Generating moisture into the air might be another possibility, but they would have to discover the reason why they would need to do it.

“We’ll find out later, Ivara. For now, just keep pressing forward.”

A few minutes of crawling later, she finally reaches an exit, kicking the small grate open and jumping out of the duct. She looks to both sides, noticing she’s in a long hallway. One end at her left leads to various rooms, while the other at her right leads to an armory of some sort. She updates her squadmates about her location and advances towards the many rooms to her west.

“I never like having to wait this long.” Limbo comments “We might miss out on any of the action.”

Valkyr can only respond by asking him “Just for the action? What if she needs our help? Does that not concern you at all?”

“Come on, you know it’s just part of the fun.”

“I don’t think she’d like hearing you say that.”

“Yes, I definitely don’t.” Ivara responds through the intercom. It seems he forgot to mute himself before speaking. He coughs up an apology which she accepts, even if it wasn’t the most serious. She keeps advancing and hides behind a wall when she gets to the entrance of one of the rooms, guarded heavily by at least a dozen soldiers.

“That has to be the control room.” She whispers to her squad “Get ready for the barriers coming down.”

She grabs a hardlight arrow from her quiver and aims at the nearest crewman, keeping a tight and firm grip on her bow. When she’s tensed it enough, she releases the shot, landing right on the man’s head and taking him out instantly. This alerts the other guards, who rush to his position and look around drawing their weapons, searching for the source of the attack. She seizes the opportunity and quickly places her original bow on her back, drawing her mighty Artemis bow and firing three lethal volleys at the crewmen that drop dead as soon as the projectiles make contact with them. She rolls into the control room and spots the monitor she was looking for.

“I found the controls for the barrier. Everything’s clear.”

After hearing this, the rest of the squad starts advancing downhill, approaching the structure and readying their weapons. Quiet and subtle, not even the most trained ear could hear their footsteps on the snow, or the barely perceptible clanking of their equipment against each other. Valkyr still seems worried, ultimately and quietly voicing her concern.

“Limbo, could you keep quiet? Why are your guns so noisy when you’re moving?”

“My apologies, Valkyr. Maybe it’s because they’re currently fully loaded.”

Oberon hands him an empty cartridge.

“Unload the bullets here, please.”

Limbo doesn’t seem too convinced by the idea at first, but eventually complies and empties the drums of his guns, storing all the bullets in the cartridge and tying it to his belt.

“I have to admit, that’s definitely much quieter.”

Both Oberon and Valkyr nod to him in gratitude and they all keep advancing. They eventually reach the first arch and hide inside an empty storage room. Ivara calls again.

“Lowering barriers in three…”

Oberon tightens his grip on his Tiberon rifle and shifts his position, ready to jump into action.

“Two…”

Limbo keeps muttering his next set of moves to himself “Jump up, shoot down, kill four, reload, enter the Rift Plane before the fourth arch, snap two necks, roll and shoot…”

“One…”

The three frames prepare to jump out of their hiding spot. It’s going to happen, the barriers are about to drop at any second, it’s now or never for then.

And then, it happens. All the hardlight barriers come down at once, and the Corpus soldiers react almost instantly, grouping up underneath the structures and drawing their weapons. The Warframes waste no time and jump into action. Limbo in particular gets ahead of the group, jumping over a crewman’s shoulder and unloading his magazines on at least seven targets.

“Dammit, that’s way more than four bullets.”

He reloads still spinning mid-air without breaking a sweat, and enters the Rift Plane narrowly avoiding shotgun shots in his direction. The other two frames aren’t much slower. Oberon keeps shooting down enemies left and right without even having to turn his head, and Valkyr chops and cuts through rows upon rows of helpless foes with swift lethality and speed. Limbo lands on his feet, firing at anything in sight as he keeps running, passing under all the seven arches as their added body count keeps rising into the hundreds. Ivara speaks to them from the inside.

“You lucky guys, having all the fun while I just sit here waiting for you.”

“I thought you had more fun being silent and stealthy.” Oberon tells her, gunning down yet another pair of Moa right in front of them.

“I have to admit it’s relaxing, but it doesn’t give me the same thrill that a real fight can deliver.”

“Although I always steal all of your kills?” He says in a more playful tone. She nods reassuringly and hefts her bow, shooting down two patrolling guards.

“It’s still plenty of fun. As it seems, I think I found something to entertain myself. Maybe you guys won’t have all of the fun now.”

She jumps out of her cover and runs into an enemy squadron, firing arrows at all of them like the greatest of striders.

“That’s a woman right after your heart, Oberon.” Limbo says, trying to tease him, but he seems too focused on hacking the entrance door. He eventually gets it right, but dozens of foes were waiting for them on the other side. Limbo rolls in and holsters his guns

“Don’t worry, I got this.”

Avoiding another barrage by entering the Rift Plane, he charges an ability in his hands. The other two frames grab hold of the nearest solid structures nailed to the ground and cling to them as if their lives depended on it. One shift out of the Rift later, and Limbo unleashes two colossal Banishes upon the mass of enemies in front of him, sending them flying all over the place and smashing them against the walls and the hard ceiling. The Warframes can barely stay right where they are, resisting the immense outwards strength of Limbo’s ability. Once the effects start fading, the frames get back up to their feet and inspect their surroundings.

“That was more effective than I first expected. Good job.” Valkyr compliments while giving Limbo a friendly nudge.

“Just what you can expect to get from this gentleman, miss." Limbo responds puffing out his chest, which backfires when Oberon pats him hard right on the sternum, making him recoil and start coughing loudly.

“Did it seriously take just that to pass through your might, Limbo?”

“That was unfair, it wasn't even required from what I reckon.” Limbo complains, returning the favor, although Oberon’s superior physical prowess makes him impervious to his strike. It still makes a fairly loud smacking sound, even if it’s not going to leave a mark.

“Fantastic way to give off our location, Limbo.” Valkyr remarks in annoyance.

“I think they already know we’re here after the little spectacle we gave them.”

“Well, so much for the subtlety, Mr. Magic.”

Limbo shakes his head and the group keeps advancing through the metallic hallways.

“Now  _ you _ guys are the ones missing out on the fun!” Ivara through the intercom with audible excitement. This proves to be incentivizing enough to speed up the squad’s pace as they keep running through empty hallways and meeting dead end after dead end. Ivara eventually grows tired of this and starts giving them directions, proving to be very proficient at it. They finally reach her location in less than two minutes, just to find her surrounded by dozens upon dozens of lifeless Corpus.

“Why did you guys take so long? I ran out of targets a few moments ago.”

They can only shrug in unison and keep pressing forward through one of the unexplored passages. The further they go inside, the louder the digital noises become, as though they’re approaching a supercomputer that would be located at the other end of the lonely corridor. Suddenly, they also hear footsteps and heavy machinery closing in from the front and behind. The frames draw their weapons once again and prepare for the incoming assault.

“I have to give it to them, I didn’t see this ambush coming at all.” Limbo admits, inserting yet another round of heavy bullets into his guns.

Hidden doors start opening in the corridor walls, and more heavily-armed soldiers come into the passage pointing their weapons at them. The footsteps they once heard finally arrive at their location in the form of even more dozens of soldiers, armed to the teeth and filled with deadly intent. They’re completely surrounded now from all sides, pressing their backs against each other

“Well, any ideas for how we’re supposed to get out of this?” Asks Valkyr in a very calm tone.

“Roll forward, shoot, melee, ability?” Responds Limbo with another question. Their surrounding foes keep increasing in numbers.

“That sounds like a plan. Do you mind if I start?”

Limbo shakes his head, giving her all the permission she needs. She takes a step forward and clears her throat, stretching a bit before letting out a blood-chilling, ear-deafening warcry that makes many of the crewmen shudder in terror. She unleashes her claws and enters Hysteria, pouncing upon the nearest formation and slashing away like a feral kavat lost in trance, turning a once tightly-packed formation of soldiers into a bloody pile of flesh and loose body parts torn to shreds. The other frames nod and go in different directions, jumping into other parts of the formation to do just as she’s doing right now. Limbo in particular seems to be enjoying himself, gunning down enemies left and right and using his Rift Plane powers to toss them all over the place. Ivara and Oberon keep shooting down enemies back to back, sticking close to each other as she keeps raining arrows down on more and more helpless foes.

“Seventy nine so far, Oberon! How about you?”

“Seventy two, but you just wait, I’ll catch up to you in no time.”

The onslaught continues, and Limbo seems to get lost in the moment up to the extent of accidentally jumping out of the fight, ending up inside a small chamber full of consoles, digital monitors and cables plugged all over the place. What stands out the most, however, is the cryopod standing right on the center. Most of the cables that are plugged to different consoles and outlets come directly from the pod itself. Limbo lets out a whistle upon this discovery, passing his hand over the glass door and staring at the blurry interior.

“Well, hello there. Are you why the Corpus are here in the first place?”

He checks one of the consoles, which displays a series of vitals and a feminine silhouette on the screen.

“You seem not to have been woken up yet. Have they been bothering you too much, miss?”

He keeps looking through the menus until he finds a description of the subject inside. It reads:

  
  


Name: Atropos

Gender: Female

Generation: GEN II

Threat Level: Ultra-high  
Current status: Freelancer

Description: This is the first GEN II ultra-high threat level Warframe we’ve found and the only one so far. The archives couldn’t tell us anything about her abilities, but the basic assumption we could make is that she’s capable of altering “fate” in a certain way. Her specific nature still hasn’t been discovered, but taking a more direct course of action could prove to be fatal. We don’t know how directly associated she is with the other GEN II Warframes we’ve found, but we found registries that indicate she wasn’t associated with the Lotus and her organization under any definition. Still, keeping her isolated is a top priority for the operation even with this considered. For now, our best option is to keep her in cryosleep until we figure out how to gain control. We must proceed with caution and make sure she remains stable, a single mistake could end up in an accidental euthanasia, a result we cannot admit by any means.

“Well, would you look at that? You seem to have caught their attention quite well. I don’t know what this ‘generation’ thing is supposed to mean, but maybe someone else will be able to tell me what it is.”

He looks through the controls and the levers, but none of them seem to be able to open the pod. It might not be a wise choice either, as it could destabilize her and even prove to be fatal.

“Don’t you worry, miss. They won’t be able to take control of you at all. We’ll get you out of there in no time, or at least I hope we can.”

Suddenly, the subject’s heartbeat accelerates dramatically, and the Warframes get pushed into the room before he can do anything to try and find out what’s happening. Oberon shuts the door and tinkers with the controls to seal it for a while.

“Good grief, they seem to be endless out there. What did you say about there not being many hostiles in here, Valkyr?”

“Ok, you have to admit you couldn’t tell there were  _ this _ many at first glance, especially because this seems excessive!”

“Let’s stay calm for now. First of all, what exactly is this room?”

“Oh, hello again, lads.” Limbo greets them “I have been here this whole time, just in case you were wondering. You see that cryopod right there? It contains a hibernating Warframe, and I think it’s still not safe to wake her up right now, especially if you look at that.”

He points at the flashing warnings on the screen and the increasingly more erratic signals.

“Lads, this miss is about to die on us if we don’t do something quick.”

The Warframes nod and start scrambling through the controls, trying to find anything that could help them control the situation, all of this while the door is still getting slowly shot down from the outside.

“Come on, lads, we need to hurry up.”

When they think they finally found the correct set of controls, they pull down levers, calibrate amounts, push buttons, insert code combinations, anything that might give any result that could prove useful to save the dying frame. At first, they only seem to be making things worse, when some of her organs start reaching critical status.

“Oberon!” Valkyr screams “What do you think you are doing with her liver?!”

“If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m trying to save her goddamn life, just like you are.”

“Yeah, and doing a god-awful job at it as well! Do I have to show you how it’s done?!”   
  


“Oh, excuse me, Dr. Valkyr, I didn’t notice you were  _ inducing a critical cardiac failure on our patient whom we cannot afford to lose.” _

Valkyr looks at him shocked for a moment and then back at the screen, noticing that Oberon was right, she was about to force a heart attack into the sleeping Warframe’s system. She clumsily corrects it as quickly as possible and looks away from him after it’s done. Oberon gives her a nod of approval and keeps working.

“S-sorry for that, Oberon...”   
  


“Don’t think of it too much. Right now, there’s a life at stake and that’s what we have to focus on.”

She nods back and goes at it again with a seemingly more optimistic attitude, which proves to be a little contagious as the other frames quicken their pace and seem more focused than before.

“Could you please pass me the scalpel, nurse?” Limbo asks to Ivara in an obvious joking manner “I think this kidney could use some special treatment.”

Ivara passes him an invisible scalpel, with which he pretends to cut through the air while moving his hips to the rhythm of a song inside his head. The others follow along and do the same as him, tossing invisible objects at each other while dancing and pretending to handle a real surgery. Eventually, the slumbering Warframe’s vitals finally stabilize, and they cheer amongst themselves giving each other hugs and high-fives.

“We did it, lads. Kudos to ourselves.”

And then, their ears are threatened and rang with a bang. Their celebration is cut short by the sound of an explosion at the other side of the door, which somehow managed to resist it.

“Oh, yeah, how did we forget the door was about to get smashed down by Corpus?” Valkyr questions. The other frames just shrug and draw their weapons again, settling closer to the door and awaiting for it to get busted open by enemy explosives.

Well, that is until they hear the noise of metal shifting and depressurization coming from behind. They turn their heads around and watch as chilling vapor pours out of the pod, quickly and drastically lowering the temperature of the entire room. And right as that happens, the door finally collapses, unable to withstand anymore punishment.

“Now, they’re about to storm in!”   
  


The frames stand up and fire at will, shooting down as many enemies as possible with all the energy and ammunition that they have left. The crewmen fall by the dozens, not even with enough time to pose as a threat of any level to them. The frames reposition themselves around the cryopod and keep firing. They need to protect the pod at all costs, even if it means they have to take one bullet or two.

“Oberon, I’m running out of ammo!” Yells Valkyr, now taking more careful and precise shots.

“Me too, Valkyr. We’ll have to make sure each and every single one of these count.”

They see themselves forced to take their shots with more accuracy. They can’t afford to waste their remaining ammunition, not even a single bullet or arrow, and even then it doesn’t last. It’s not too lost before they hear the first empty clip, that turns into two, three, and eventually, all of them have run out of ammo.

“What will we do now?!” Screams Valkyr. Limbo keeps staring at the cryopod until an idea suddenly comes into his mind.

“I know what to do. Stay back here, please.”

Dropping his empty weapon, he jumps into the Rift Plane.

“Limbo, watch out!”

The crewmen aim all their weapons at the defenseless frames, and just as they’re about to fire, Limbo appears right in front of them with glowing hands.

“Cataclysm!”

Pulling his hands forward, he lets reality shift and twist on top of the crewmen until a colossal Rift blast emerges, killing several and sending many others flying away into the walls and the floor. The ones that didn’t suffer either of those fates get finished off by the second blast after the Rift portal collapses. Limbo jumps out of the Rift and back into normal reality, small electric shocks of dark energy still flowing through his arms.

“So, does that do it for you, lads?” He says, walking back to their position after having cleared off all hostiles with his attack. The others nod approvingly as he enters the room and stands right in front of the cryopod as it finally starts opening. They can hear impacts coming from the inside, so he steps aside just in case, and what a good decision that was. The cryopod door gets kicked open and sent flying away a dozen feet out of the room. A slender leg and a hand with sharp but delicate digits are the first things to come out. The feminine figure that was inside the pod steps out and finally stands up in the middle of the room.

Her height seems fairly standard, albeit below average at most, at around 5 feet and 6 inches, maybe an inch more or an inch less. Her feet are human-shaped, which extend into two sharp digits. Her calves are slender but well-shaped like a prime athlete, and the same’s the case with her thighs, covered by white metal padding on the front and back. Her hips are broader, adding to her thin waist and semi-pert chest to give an hourglass shape to her overall figure. All of her torso down to her upper thighs is covered by a long white coat-shaped vest that extends in the back and cuts into two long coattails. Her arms are thin but still hold outstanding strength, covered by more white padding on the forearm and the outer upper arm and shoulder. Her face, however, is what stands out the most. Sitting on a smooth round-shaped head, two metallic prisms protect each cheek up to where the ears would be located, covering the sides of her head in their entirety. A large coin-sized glowing red lens sits on the very center of her face, and the rest of her head is covered by more sharp edges, small garments, and small glowing lights placed on the spaces in between the plating. Overall, and figure with both elegance and an impression of swift deadliness. Limbo steps into her line of sight and greets her, extending a hand to her.

“Welcome back, miss. I know it has been a while since the last time you were active, so I thought you might make use of a little debrief-”   
  


She shuts him up by shoving him aside and taking a long step forward, scanning her surroundings and looking at each of the other Warframes standing inside the room. Limbo clears his throat and speaks up again.

“So, you may call me Limbo, and this is Valkyr.”

Valkyr gives her a greeting nod.

“This is Oberon.”

Oberon waves his hand at her.

“And this is Ivara.”

Ivara steps forward and extends her a hand, which she promptly ignores looking back at her open cryopod. The inside looks fairly comfortable, not a bad spot to spend an eternity on. Her lens flashes for a moment as she finally says her first word.

“Atropos…”

“We assume that is your name, miss. Those monitors showed your vitals and your condition, but it seems they shut down when you woke up.”

Some of the architecture seems familiar to her.

“This is… Orokin…”

“Yes, your cryopod was located inside a cave that hosts this hidden Orokin facility. Corpus took care of the excavation, and they also wanted to open your pod and take control of your systems. Luckily, we showed up just in time, and now you’re back to consciousness and not under their control.”

She stares at her own empty hands, opening and closing her fists a couple times. Even after so long, she's still intact, even ready to hop into action at any given time if needed.

Another Corpus squadron shows up and aims their guns at them.

“Don’t worry, miss. I got this under control.”

He reaches down for his guns and pats over his belt, remembering the clip he filled with bullets should be there, yet it isn't.

“Well… This proves to be quite the predicament…” He stutters, pointing an empty gun at them. He doesn’t even bother to pull the trigger, nothing’s going to come out of them.

Atropos takes a step forward, and in a sudden move, she yanks one of his Kama, throwing it at the nearest crewman. Using this as a distraction, she dodges the first barrage of bullets by stepping aside, and her entire left arm starts glowing gray. She unleashes a field that engulfs the entire squadron, but for some reason only kills exactly half of them.

“Tch.”

She sounds annoyed by this, so she extends her other hand and snaps her fingers. The entire energy she had stored suddenly emerges violently, and in a split-second, the remaining crewmen that survived the first attack fall one by one hit by a deadly strand of gray energy that pierces through their chests. The other frames just watch all of this go down, and when it’s finally over, they walk out of the room and stand right behind her.

“I’m surprised Corpus managed to stick around,” she says “they should’ve fallen to their own putrid greed a long time ago.”

“So that means you’re with us?” Valkyr asks her.

“That depends on just how much of a bunch of puppets you are to the Lotus.”

They’re taken aback by such response. How could any Warframe ever hold anything against the Lotus herself? That doesn’t seem nor sound right at all.

“I don’t think we heard you right, Atropos.” Oberon comments.

“You certainly did, do not make me repeat myself.” She responds with an even more annoyed tone than before. The other frames look at each other in confusion, trying to figure out how they’re going to deal with her.

“Well, miss,” Limbo speaks up “now that you’re awake, I think we should get you out of here, don’t you agree?”

“It seems as though I have no better option but to stick with you for now. I’ll take it. However, I have one petition.”

“And that is...?”   
  


“Do  _ not _ let the Lotus bother me with her motherly attitude and her interrogations. I do not wish to have to come across her at all.”

“Well, understood, if that will make you accept our offer. I assume you two have some history together.”

“That is none of your business.” She says before she starts walking away. The others follow and get ahead of her, guiding her to their orbiters.

“So, Atropos,” Says Ivara “which of us are you going back to the base with?”

Without uttering a single word, she walks into Limbo’s orbiter, not even bothering to ask whose ship it is. The others just shrug and hop onto their ships as well.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Limbo tells her “the ride shouldn’t be that long, but that’s not an excuse to have a miss just standing in the middle of a ship like that.”

She doesn’t say anything back, and just sits down right next to his navigation board. The ships take off, get into formation and start ascending back into orbit.

“At least the Lotus will be pleased with the results of this mission.” Says Ivara.

“No, she will not.” Atropos says as a response “Trust me when I tell you, there is just no way she will be pleased with seeing me again.”

“Well… I don’t know. She always seems to like making acquaintances.”


	5. IV: A Lukewarm Welcoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new arrival at Fortuna doesn't get the best of receptions, as the Warframes start talking among themselves about this brand new member.

Has waiting outside a meeting room like this ever been this excruciating? They certainly don’t know, and walking in circles in front of the closed door to kill some time isn’t helping them that much either.

“I don’t get it,” Says Valkyr “what is so special about this Atropos girl that makes the Lotus want to talk with her for hours?”

The others just shrug, right in time to see Atropos open the door and walk out of the room. Their first impression of her might have not been the best, but now… She seems different. Ivara’s the first one to greet her.

“Hi again. How are you-”

“Get out of the way.” Atropos responds almost immediately. She’s still as combative as yesterday, it seems, although… She sounded a tad more calm this time. Ivara does as she requested with just as much peace, and Atropos walks away lifting up the tension that was engulfing the ambient. Valkyr sighs and places a hand on Ivara’s shoulder, asking her:  
  


“How do you manage to stay so calm in these types of situations?”

Ivara turns and looks at her directly.

“It’s just that everyone needs their own room to breathe. Being themselves isn’t always easy, especially around people that don’t really get along with them. You kind of have to make yourself go easy on her too, if you consider for just how long she had been asleep and everything she now has to catch up to.”

Valkyr nods understandingly and looks at Atropos as she keeps walking away. Her posture doesn’t seem as tall and proud as yesterday, if anything, she seems a bit tired from something.

“I just hope the Lotus snapped some sense into her, it looks like she indeed did.” She comments.

And Atropos keeps walking away, oblivious of her surroundings. Many other Warframes stare at her as she passes by, face always looking down at her own feet. Judging her they are, she thinks, and her best choice is to just ignore them. That might no longer be an option, though, as soon as she bumps into someone, falling down backwards.

“S-sorry!” The other person tells her, lending her a hand. She wants to dismiss it at first, but ultimately chooses to take it and bring herself up to her feet. Their gazes meet, and it turns out to be Betelgeuse, although she doesn’t know him yet.

“Atropos, right?” He asks “You must be, you’re the last one I meet since I came here to Fortuna.”

She shrugs as a response and looks over his shoulder.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, and you may know me as Betelgeuse-”

She walks away again before he can finish his introduction, leaving him standing right there and looking at her, puzzled.

“Huh? What… What did I do wrong?” He asks himself.

She keeps walking, but where to? She knows perfectly she has nowhere to go. She won’t be given an orbiter just like that, she has to earn it and then wait a few days to receive it. In the meantime, she’ll have to take rides from the other frames, even if that means she has to put up with them.

She looks at both sides of a corridor. One leads to a dead end, and the other has some of the frames that freed her. They seem to be talking to each other, and Limbo in particular acts more lively and makes more gestures than the rest during the conversation. What could they be talking about, she wondered for a brief instant, but she disregarded the thought as soon as it pooped into her mind. It didn’t matter to her, why should it?

But this question got answered as soon as Limbo turned around, waved at her, and then started trotting towards her. She takes a step back at first, confused about this sudden behavior, but he’s standing right in front of her before she can do anything else.

“Hi again, Atropos. It is indeed quite the coincidence to meet up again, and I didn’t expect you to be looking into this alley in particular.”

“Why are you here, right in front of me? Wasn’t it enough for you to break your promise?”

Limbo flinches a bit by this response, but keeps pressing forward.

“Well, my squad and I were just talking about you, making it even more coincidental.”

“So, you and your little posse were gossiping about me like a bunch of little brats?”

“No, no, that’s not what we were doing at all, we were just conversing about your possible capabilities.”

“I hope you didn’t underestimate me.” She complains.

“Why would we ever do that? You gave a fair display of power when we first met you.”

“I was barely defending myself.”

“Well, your senses have remained sharp even after so long, if that’s the case. Your self-preservation hasn’t depleted, and your abilities have stayed at their full power.”

She shrugs again.

“I control fate, I much need to stay at my finest to do my job.”

Limbo nods and another question pops into his mind.

“By the way… Can you tell me what GEN II means?”

Atropos’ distracted gaze gets dragged towards him by this question.

“I saw it on the description one of the monitors had back at the facility. Do you have any idea of its meaning?”

His hopes of receiving an answer are pretty high. After all, she-

“No, I am afraid for you that I don’t have the meaning of ‘GEN II’, even if it was used to describe me in a certain way.”

And that certainly proves to be a bit of a predicament for him. Raising a hand to his chin, he thinks about it for a moment, but nothing seems to fit with anything without a clear answer. Shrugging, he finally responds to her after a few seconds of silence.

“Well, it seems I’ll have to figure it out later. Either way, thank you for your time and for letting me bother you a bit like this.”

She makes a dismissive gesture with her hand, trying to shoo him away. As she sees he isn’t really going to obey it, she chooses to be the one who turns around and walks away instead. Limbo shakes his head and brings a hand to its side. He really doesn’t comprehend why she’s acting so strange and dismissive to everybody, and it’s not pleasant either. He raises his other hand, about to grab hold of her shoulder and address this issue immediately, although he hesitates. His hand becomes slightly shaky and stays at waist height, finally reaching its intended location when she’s a good few feet away from him. It isn’t polite to treat a lady like that, he thinks, and maybe that inner thought is what made him stop for a second. It’s still somewhat strange, she’s the first person that he’s treated like this. Not even Valkyr, Ivara and the others get a free pass from him, but for some strange, subconscious reason, she does.

“Limbo?”

Oberon calling him snaps him back into reality. Was he thinking too much of the situation? Regardless, he can't leave him hanging like that, so he turns and walks back to the corner of the alley where he used to be.

“You just ran off without telling us anything. Did you spot anything that caught your interest?”

“Nothing, really, besides our big discovery from yesterday.”

“That Atropos girl? She’s been making a big fuzz lately, although that doesn’t seem to be her intention at all.”

“I don’t know why she has to act like that, maybe she cannot notice her attitude is being counter-productive or-”

“Or it’s just part of her nature, as simple as that.” Says Ivara, interrupting both of them. They both just look at her speechless for a few seconds, leaving her wondering if she said something wrong… Well, that is until both of them nod in unison, expressing their mutual agreement with her theory.

“Jeez, there was no need for you to do that.”

“I don’t know. Oberon, do you think it was worth her reaction?”

“I’d say most definitely, Limbo.”

And this is one of those situations where a Warframe would pout hard if they actually could.

“But anyway,” Limbo resumes the conversation “I still wonder what some of the things I saw on that monitor meant, especially ‘GEN II’.”

“Don’t you think you might be overthinking it a little too much?” Valkyr asks him. She doesn’t sound worried about him, but she’s not frustrated by his constant asking either, she just sounds a bit concerned.

“Maybe, maybe not, but I don’t really lose anything if I am.”

“That might not seem to be the case right now, but you don’t know what could happen down the line.”

“One simple question isn’t going to be that devastating, but anyway, do you guys have any idea of what it means?”

They can only shrug at him and shake their heads, prompting a long sigh with some hints of disappointment from him. How could something simply called “GEN II” be such a mystery, especially to them? Maybe it was just Corpus terminology that none of them really get? It didn’t seem that foreign or complex, though, it looked more like a mere abbreviation which wasn’t really trying to hold any deeper, more contrived meaning.

He decides to leave that doubt for later, worrying about something as simple as a mere concept isn’t really the wisest thing.

“Limbo.” Valkyr calls him, about to ask him something. He turns his face and looks at her.

“Yes, Valkyr?”

“Did Atropos tell you anything in particular?”

“Well, no, the real issue is actually how little she had to tell me.”

This leaves Valkyr thinking for a moment.

“I don’t expect her to have much to say after just having woken up.” Comments Oberon.

And with that, the others drop the subject and leave to their own affairs. Limbo walks out of the alley and turns to go back to his ship, just when his gaze catches Atropos walking about with no particular destination. What could she be thinking about, he wondered…

Judged. Once again, she’s being judged. It seems they didn’t have enough with their betrayal of their promise, and now their entire organization stares at her like an outcast. She can’t take even a single step in any direction without being followed by their glances and their silent judging. It’s all clear now, they brought her here to condemn her and turn her into the laughing stock of all these puppets. What might come next for her? She definitely doesn’t find any of them trustworthy.

She spots Limbo looking at her from the other side of the street, and she remembers their short conversation. GEN II? What could that mean? Why does he even need to know, and what does it have to do with her? Nothing seems right to her, so she ignores him waving at her and keeps walking down the street. She finds the ambient dark, gloomy and oddly mysterious. Has she never been somewhere like this before? She doesn’t seem scared at all, but her pacing still shows slight hints of caution.

Limbo finds this behavior rather odd, but he chooses not to point it out. Maybe she’s gone through enough today. Another group of Warframes approaches her, and they try to engage in a conversation with her, but they fail miserably. She still keeps ignoring everyone around herself and going nowhere in particular. It seems a little sad, he has to admit to himself, and he wishes he could do something for her, but she would most likely decline anything he might propose. Giving up on trying to get anything else out of her for that day, he turns and walks back to his orbiter, standing right in front of the opening cargo bay. Stepping in, he settles his things on top of a small round table and sits down to rest in front of the navigation board.

“Had a rough day, Limbo?”

He turns his head and looks back at the table, where a Warframe’s now sitting legs crossed after placing his things aside. It turns out to be Wisp, who starts levitating over the piece of furniture.

“I thought you’d have something better to do than stop by someone else’s orbiter, Wisp.” He tells her in a very monotone voice.

“Well, maybe I do, maybe I don’t, I just wanted to visit my good old friend Limbo.” She says as she keeps floating around. Limbo chooses to ignore this and puts his hands on his knees to start meditating.

“You seem to have done a lot today, Limbo.Would you mind telling me a bit about the things you did?”

“As usual, that is none of your business.”

“Reaaaally? I really wanted to know what wonderful things you did today.” She says as she now passes over his navigation board, sitting mid-air right over his head. He huffs as a response and keeps meditating in silence, trying not to pay attention to the fact that she’s now turning over and sitting upside down right in front of him.

“Come on, Limbo, don’t let a friend down like that.”

“You can stop trying, because I’m not going to tell you no matter how much you keep bothering me.” He tells her, and his voice is starting to show some first signs of annoyance added to his already present exhaustion. She extends her legs, which actually manages to catch his attention. then, she starts walking in circles, through the air, upside down, around him.

“Why is it that hard for you to tell me about something so simple, Limbo? You have nothing to be afraid of, I'm the best at keeping secrets.” She says placing a finger over her lower face where a mouth would be. He waits for a moment and then pulls her down against the floor, making her land on her back.

“Oww, that’s not fun…”

“I don’t know what else you expected me to do.”

“I was doing nothing to you to deserve that.” She tells him, passing a hand over her shoulder and upper back.

“Well, I don't really know if you do count or not your constant asking and prying just because you wanted me to tell you about the things I did today when I really didn’t want to.” He responds in a more calm voice.

“H-hey… I was really curious…” She says, sounding a little embarrassed for it.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you were, but this isn’t a discussion to have right now. Could you get out of my ship so I can get some rest peacefully and without you around, please?”

“Aww, I thought you could use some company-”  
  


That is enough for him to suddenly get up to his feet and push her out of the ship, closing the cargo bay door as soon as she sets her feet back on the cold streets.

“Hey, it’s very cold out here!” She yells from outside.

“And that’s not my fault at all, go to your own ship already.”

She lets out a long sigh and says “fine”, walking away from there and towards her own orbiter.

On her way there, her sight catches another frame she thinks she’s seen walking around aimlessly

earlier that day, and now she’s jumping and climbing up some pipes and buildings, apparently trying to get to the top of one of the flat rooftops. That seems strange to her, but she’s not going to question anything. It’s not really her business, after all, so she averts her gaze and keeps walking to her ship.

Meanwhile, Atropos finally lands on said rooftop and looks around herself. The neon light-bathed spectacle surrounding her would be more impressive if it wasn’t filled with such unwelcoming people. The cold roof where she stands won’t be the best place to spend the night either, but she really seems to have no choice. Fixing her coat and pulling the coattails between her legs, she first sits and then proceeds to lie down on her back, looking up to the star-filled night sky. Based off the things the others told her, she hasn’t seen such view in a very long time. She didn’t necessarily miss it, but it still remains a nice novelty she can literally look up to at any time. Just as she starts wandering her thoughts, her gaze catches the passing of a shooting star leaving a shining trail of stardust behind, almost splitting the sky in two. Could that shooting star be one more Tenno, wielding the sharpest of mighty blades and slashing space itself as they pass by with no effort, she wonders… Tenno, Tenno, Tenno. Yeah, something feels off, but whenever she tries to think about it, her head starts hurting badly. Those other judgemental bastards probably have something to do with it. Maybe if she tries a bit harder, and so she brings a hand to her forehead and dives into her thoughts once again…

She sees something. Her head aches like crazy, the pain is unbearable, but she keeps pressing forward. What could that something be? She can’t distinguish it, it’s all too bright, too blurry, her memory is too hazy for her to remember clearly. She can see white with some spots of gold all around herself, and something tall and dark on the middle. However, she still can’t recognize anything.

She wakes up bolting up to her knees. How long did she stay like that? The night sky still sits proudly over her head, but the stars have definitely changed their positions. She doesn’t know what happened during that time, and she can’t remember anything of what she might have dreamed no matter how hard she tries. What she knows for sure, though, is that her head is killing her. The pain she’s feeling is like nothing else she remembers to have experienced before, even if it was a long time ago. Where did it even come from?

She looks around herself in all directions and lets out a sigh of relief. It seems nobody saw her while she was like that, or maybe they did but she couldn’t notice in her lack of consciousness. If that was the case, then there isn’t much she could actually do about it. The cold breeze makes her shiver, and now she thinks maybe staying up in a flat rooftop with no real shelter wasn’t the best idea. However, it was either that or having to deal with one of those bastards again, and she would rather freeze to death in that case. She decides to just lay down again and endure it, her back flinching upon making contact with the now cold surface of the roof, but she ignores it and forces herself to rest under those conditions. This might not be the best night for her.


	6. V: Fate and Destiny Do Not Get Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyr and Atropos unveil a great secret when they infiltrate a massive Corpus underground facility hidden under the snowlands of Venus.

“I’m serious, Lotus.” Says Valkyr as she keeps advancing through the snow “She just arrived a couple days ago and you’re already sending her off on missions with your most trusted agents?” 

The Lotus nods to her through the small screen on their intercom, which only left her even more confused.

“That doesn’t seem too reasonable, if you ask me.”

“Valkyr, you know very well that we need to formally test her capabilities to their full extent, and this operation will be the perfect setting for that.”

Yeah, she understands that, but to only bring the two of them for this operation, it doesn’t seem like a wise move. The amount of foes they’re supposed to face today is pretty substantial as well. The enemies themselves aren’t too powerful on their own, but their strength obviously resides on their numbers. Those hundreds of men march through the snowy fields, where are they going?

A treble, sharp noise catches her attention. It came from right next to her, like the sound of a laser pointer being switched on. Atropos’ rifle made that sound, and she can now see why: A thin, red laser pointer is coming out of the weapon’s scope, slightly illuminating the snow around the small, glowing dot.

“A sniper? I didn’t expect you to prefer using one of those.”

But Atropos shakes her head. It’s not a sniper rifle, it seems, so why does it need a scope and a laser to guide the aim of her shots? She’s about to find out, now that they finally reach some good cover to hide behind. Placing the barrel of her gun on top of the snow pile, Atropos keeps turning the weapon from side to side, adjusting the scope with her other hand.

“Current wind speed is at twenty-eight miles per hour, with an estimated one-hundred-and-thirty-feet altitude difference between them and us. The enemy moves at a simultaneous, calculated speed of six miles per hour, and it seems they could not bring heavy vehicles to transport themselves.”

“Lotus, how much did these people really need to keep discretion? They’re in the middle of nowhere and I see no reason not to use heavy machinery to move them around at a faster pace.”

The Lotus flashes on her intercom screen once again.

“Recent reports and topographic data of the area show the possibility of a massive hidden Corpus underground complex under the surface.”

“Great, they’re back at it again with another one of those mining facilities-”

“It’s not a mining complex, Valkyr.” Lotus interrupts her “Although the layout and the location of the equipment can be deceiving, it is very clear that this is a research facility of some sorts. Your task, Tenno, besides eliminating as many targets on that division and causing disarray on their lines, is to infiltrate the facility, gather any data you are able to find in their consoles, and disable or destroy the systems if you find it necessary.”

“Research? What kind of research would they be doing to need such a massive base hidden under the surface’”  
  


“That is exactly what you two were sent here to find out. I will send reinforcements to your location if you haven’t finished the mission in the next hour, understood?”

Valkyr nods and looks back at Atropos, who seems to have finally chosen a target after adjusting the scope of her non-sniper-rifle sniper rifle. The red dot on its center shrinks, making the gun release another sharp noise, and with a steady hold on the trigger:

“May Fate bless you.”

The first Corpus soldier drops dead right on the spot, and another follows almost instantly, and another, and another one. At this point, Valkyr wonders how that’s possible, so she looks back at Atropos’ weapon. It doesn’t look like anything she’s seen before. It sort of resembles a Boltor rifle, but way more rectangular, with a longer overall shape, a very extended barrel and an added scope. It’s definitely not a Boltor rifle or a modification of some sorts, it very much is its own thing.

“It has no official model.” Atropos tell her as she keeps gunning down enemies ”Enhanced firing mechanisms achieve an accelerated rate of fire that allow the gun to shoot eighty bullets in one minute at maximum speed. Magazine size is only of twenty bullets.”

She pulls the empty magazine out of the gun and inserts a new one right after saying this, holding down the trigger once again. 

“That could definitely use some improvements. I call it Ascalon, and I’d prefer you do so as well. Self-made blueprint, I had to find the materials and craft it myself, I don’t expect the old one to have survived for that long after I was put into cryosleep.”

That’s the first time ever that Valkyr has heard that name, yet it still feels oddly fitting, so she doesn’t question it. Atropos keeps turning the gun frantically keep the trigger held down, emptying magazine after magazine. How long will they be able to keep going like this before their position is detected? Yet again, the enemy lines are quickly breaking as the most coward start running in all directions. This, however, also means their most experienced trackers have also exited the formation to start looking around for their hiding spot. They won’t be able to stay here for much longer.

A small scouting group of twelve crewmen is getting dangerously close to their position. When they think they notice something strange behind a pile of snow, they raise their weapons and spread out to attack from all directions. Once they’re a bare few feet away, they hold down the triggers, showering the snow between them and their possible target with dozens upon dozens of bullets. A few seconds pass, as the newly-generated layer of smoke and vapor generated by their barrage starts dissipating, and during those seconds that feel eternal, nothing happens, nothing emerges from behind. They slowly get closer and closer, and one of them kicks down the pile when he’s near enough. To their surprise, nothing was there, they had been shooting at nothing but snow and thin air all along. They look at each other in disbelief, announce their status to the rest of the division through a shared signal, pacing away from the hill without taking their gazes off the spot they just attacked.

But it is no use. A sudden, high-pitch noise splits the air, and next thing the crewmen see is an extremely thin black strand of energy impaling them all through their hearts, ending their lives in an instant. Atropos shakes her hand after having just snapped her fingers, a slight burn mark now present on the tip of the thumb and middle finger. The frames had found a hole in the terrain where they hid inside of and killed the scouting group from.

“I need to find more energy as soon as possible, that single Killswitch depleted all of my reserves.” She says, picking up her custom rifle from the hole and looking down at their panicking foes. Both of them start descending the hill together, checking on their remaining ammunition and looking for the next cover. Before they can do that, however, the snow right next to the disorganized crewmen starts rising up from the ground. A massive metallic ceiling was lying right underneath, hidden from everybody’s view. Four lifts emerge from the base hidden inside, guarded by dozens of heavily-armored Corpus soldiers. The fleeing division crewmen hop into the lifts and descend to the inner complex by the tens.

“Bingo.” Says Valkyr, pointing at their new finding “Will you find enough energy inside that facility?”

“Well, perhaps, perhaps not, that is what we’re about to find out.”

They trot downhill and and towards the closing ceiling as soon as the last crewman steps onto the lift and goes down to the base. They look around for any openings or more hidden entrances, but don’t seem to have much success at first.

“Atropos?” Valkyr asks as she sees her turn around and walk away from her.

“There is nothing to find here. They’re already inside and they won’t open the ceiling for us if we knock and ask nicely, will they?”

Valkyr sighs and sets her rifle on her back, walking to where the ceiling once opened.

“Valkyr, what do you think you are doing?”

“You might have great capabilities, Atropos, but somehow, it seems as though you still have a lot to learn if you want to work as part of a team.”

“I didn’t even want to join this mission in the first place, and you know that.”

“Easy, easy, you will see it’s easier than it seems. Follow me, slowly.”

She takes each step towards the hidden ceiling with care, making calculated advances instead of pacing around randomly, which is exactly what Atropos is doing right now.

“You look ridiculous,” Atropos tells her, not amused by the situation “and I don’t see how what you’re doing is going to be useful right now-”

And just as she’s about to finish her sentence, Valkyr steps on something that makes a particular metallic noise, like the one a hollow container or an empty steel box would make.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Valkyr squats and clears off snow from the spot, just to find a metallic lever is what she stepped over. She unleashes her claws and starts digging down through at least an eight-feet layer of snow until she hits something solid.

“Sometimes, trusting your senses is the best bet you can make when doing these kinds of things, Atropos… Atropos?”

Atropos isn’t turning around. It seems like she’s just choosing to ignore her. Valkyr sighs, digs her hand in the snow, grabs a good handful and throws it at the back of her head. It works, Atropos turns around looking a tad more pissed than usual, which on itself is quite the achievement.

“Toss me that lever, please. It’s the missing piece we need to open whatever this might be.”

Atropos throws the lever to her open hand with a single kick, and she gives her an approving nod as thanks. Not that she can make much use of a simple nod, and it doesn’t look like she really cares either. Valkyr twirls the long piece of metal and proceeds to push it down a very small and narrow opening. Once it seems to reach the bottom of something, they can both hear a click that came from the inside. Valkyr holds a tight grip on the upper end of the lever and rotates it, prompting more sounds from underneath, this time from twisting gears and mechanisms. Some extra rotating later, and a depressurizing noise comes out, so Valkyr tries and pulls the lever upwards. A big metallic lid was attached to it, covering a dark and narrow interior. As it seems, what was hidden underneath was a secret manhole.

“I think we finally found our entrance ticket, don’t you agree?”  
  


Atropos say s nothing and just walks over to where she is. They wait for a moment before Valkyr jumps into the hole, quickly surprised by it being way deeper than they expected. She launches her Rip Line hook upwards, hooking it to the snowy surface right above, and looks down at the pit right under her feet. The fall would’ve been of just thirty feet at most, but she lost nothing by taking that little precaution.

“Everything seems to be clear, are you coming with me down here or not?”

Atropos doesn’t seem too convinced, instead choosing to jump past her down to the bottom. She lands in the middle of a long hallway, both ends leading to separate sets of staircases. She chooses to go right, drawing her weapon and running away from the entrance hole.

“Hey, don’t leave me behind, I’m your teammate!” Valkyr shouts at her, but it’s no use. Sighing, she releases the hook and drops to the ground, landing cleanly on her feet and quickly following Atropos, who’s already found the first defenseless pack of enemies and gunning them all down. Once they’re all dead, she checks their bodies and extracts all the energy she can get form them.

“That should be enough for three Hearteaters or a mild Killswitch, so we won’t be totally helpless against whatever might come at us.”

“Don’t underestimate me like that, give me some credit.”

“I’m not taking any credit from you, I just don’t expect you to be able to pick off any targets that I don’t, because I assure you I won’t miss.”

Valkyr shakes her head at this comment, although Atropos doesn’t see it. Everything indicates that this is going to be a very long mission.

What follows right after is eternal minutes of walking through long hallways, neverending chambers, and the occasional packs of enemies harassing them. Making quick work out of them isn’t really that hard for both frames, but with how constant and how numerous those attacks are becoming, they’ll soon start running out of energy, time and ammunition. Dead ends are becoming more recurrent as well, and getting cornered by their pursuers is getting increasingly harder to handle as their numbers increase. Nevertheless, regardless of how difficult their push turns, they keep pressing forward, and Atropos in particular turns more and more fired up and ferocious with her fighting as they progress. It’s a particularly off-character attitude to assume from her, but borderline desperate times apparently demand desperate measures.

Two more Hearteaters are Atropos’ greeting to the nearby guards as she and Valkyr enter the biggest room yet, killing exactly half of those in the ability’s range. The rest are either clawed down by Valkyr or slashed into pieces by Atropos and her Kama, deadly as the grim reaper’s scythe. Some of the crewmen, though, have barely enough time to set off the alarm before meeting their inevitable end. The heat of the moment and their scarcity of bullets makes both frames run in opposite directions. Soon enough, the large room is filled to the brim with rushing Corpus and walkers, but not quickly enough to be able to catch the Warframes before they can find safe hiding spots. The soldiers head off in all directions searching for them, and Atropos quietly takes them out one by one behind a corner in a crossway, but Valkyr’s hiding wasn’t that lucky, as she’s now inside a small storage room where she could get easily overwhelmed if she got discovered.

But that’s only the least of her worries, when she sticks her head out and notices a familiar, yet worrisome figure making her way past the many crewmen now flooding the large hallway. It’s the makeshift Warframe she first met back on that mission at the abandoned factory. What is she even doing there?

Valkyr gets snapped out of these thoughts by the crewmen turning and running out of the hallway when they hear a false alarm set off by Atropos coming from the other side of the complex. Very few remain in the hallway, which she picks off one by one with ease from her cover. This obviously makes the situation orders of magnitude easier to handle for Valkyr, but she still has a big problem to deal with. Deinos hasn’t walked into the hallway yet, but as soon as she does, Atropos will see her and initiate a duel that she might or might not be able to win. On one hand, if Atropos wins, she’d most likely kill Deinos by herself, and that would mean Valkyr would be breaking the promise she made to the Lotus. On the other hand, however, if Deinos comes out on top, she’d most certainly and literally shred Atropos to pieces with her own hands, which would be… A bummer, at the very least. So, did Valkyr want to deal with either the Lotus’ disappointment and possible wrath, or with the death of their most recent member?

In reality, she wanted neither. Instead, she stays close to the storage room door, waiting for Deinos to come into the hallway. At least she was lucky enough to pick the storage room that is closer to the large hall. Now all she can do is cross her fingers and hope Atropos’ reaction speed is slow enough to do what she’s about to do.

And as soon as she hears Deinos’ first footsteps inside the hallway, she steps out of the storage room, makes a tight hold on her shoulders, and pulls her into the storage room, all in absolute silence and before Atropos could turn around and react to it. She then shuts the door and hides in a corner right next to the entrance. A tense silence fills the room, but she still sighs of relief and relaxes after pulling off such a stunt.

“Skinless…”

And of course, she can’t forget about her new hostage. She expected her to whimper or try to wriggle free, but in reality, she’s doing nothing, just staying still on her grasp. It’s a bit surprising at first, but then she remembers she acted similarly on their first encounter in the abandoned facility. It’s a strange behavior, but it’s still quite convenient, especially considering…  
  


“Valkyr? Where the hell did you go?”

Yeah, that. Having Deinos under control is a good thing, that solves the first half of the problem, but she still needs to figure out how she’s going to sneak through with her and without Atropos finding out. This will prove to be even more difficult than she first thought it would be, though, when Deinos turns her face towards the door when she hears Atropos’ voice coming from outside, raising her hands and unleashing her deadly claws. It seems hearing her ignited her killer instinct once again, and now she’s actually struggling and trying to get off Valkyr’s grasp.

“Seriously, Valkyr, we need to get this mission done soon before reinforcements arrive, I don’t want to put up with Lotus and her chastising, and I don’t care how much you love her or how much of a mom she is to you, we need to finish this ordeal.”

She really wants to finish the mission too, but this fiend that’s holding her back won’t let her out of the room so easily. She keeps pushing her back, but damn, she’s really a tenacious one. Her grasp slowly starts to weaken, and with a sudden, violent yank, Deinos frees her right hand and throws it against the door, leaving a big, very noticeable dent and making a very loud noise upon impact. Atropos hears this, slowly getting closer pointing her weapon at the now bent door. Valkyr can’t see this from the inside, but she can feel something’s wrong, and it certainly wouldn’t be that big of a deal if Deinos wasn’t accidentally elbowing her head with the strength of a sledgehammer, making it increasingly harder for her to remain focused. She hears subtle footsteps outside, and they’re extremely close to the door. That has to be Atropos, and she knows for sure she won’t be amused at all by this sight. She dodges yet another elbow aimed straight to her head, which lands on an empty container. The impact makes even more noise, giving away their position again. However, this gives her an idea.

Atropos is now a few inches away from the door, keeping a firm grip on her weapon and passing her free hand over the wall, getting closer to the small console that controls the opening systems.

“Valkyr, are you in there? This is seriously an awful time to do something like this.” She complains, her tone getting more and more annoyed by her absence. A constant banging seems to be the answer she needed, as she now turns to the console and tries to hack its systems as quickly as possible. She might not be the most proficient of hackers, but her effort is at least enough to open the damaged door up to where it can get before the dent gets on the way. However, this doesn’t last, as the door shuts violently before she can even take one step forward. There’s definitely something inside, and it certainly doesn’t want her in. Well, she’s not going to give up that easily, so she hacks the door again at quite the impressive speed for someone who isn’t too good at it, and once again, the door closes on its own with remarkable strength. She could have been crushed if she had tried to cross in that brief instant.

This situation is becoming more ridiculous for her. Why is it so hard for her to get inside one single room? It doesn’t seem to be one that would hold anything special. She hears the banging again, someone or something’s definitely hiding inside. Tired of this back-and-forth, she puts her weapon on her back and hacks the systems again, and as soon as the door slides open, she throws a punch with all the strength she can muster. Her fist smashes through the wall and through the controls both on the outside and inside the room. With this, she’s ensured the door will stay open, and she’s even made a hole in the wall to see through. Peeping through the newly-made hole, she sees nothing but a small, empty room full of empty boxes, shelves and containers, but she sees no air ducts or any alternate exits anyone that might have been stuck in here could have used.

There it is again, the banging keeps coming from inside the room but she still can’t see the source. It seems she has no choice but to walk in and check the room more thoroughly. Sticking close to the steel wall between her and the room, she takes each step forward with extreme carefulness. It’s only a couple feet of distance, but the air of tension makes it seem like an eternity between each step forward. Grabbing hold of her Ascalon hybrid rifle once again, she sticks the lengthened barrel through the open door and sees through the scope. The sight upon her is still nothing but emptiness, was she actually imagining all those noises that came from the inside? The time she spent in cryosleep couldn’t have been that damaging, right?

Her suspicions are proven to be wrong when one of the containers starts opening on its own. Her finger stays still and ready to pull the trigger at any second, and she’s a mere instant away from unloading a full magazine upon the figure that jumps out of the container, but…

“Valkyr, are you kidding me?”

As it turns out, Valkyr was the thing trapped inside the container, and she lands on her knees and starts gasping for air. The container doesn’t seem to have contained anything else apart from her. Someone must have locked her in and then ran away, Even with how irritated she is at her right now, Atropos walks in and helps her up to her feet.

“I seriously can’t believe you right now. We lost so much time just because you were trapped inside this thing.”

“I’m sorry, they were just too many and I needed somewhere to-”

“So a coward as well? Tch, give me a break.”  
  


Valkyr ignores this last comment and grabs her things, waiting for Atropos to exit the room first, but she doesn’t. She keeps watching her with suspicion.

“Atropos? Why are you… Staring at me like that?”

“You get out first.”

Valkyr was begging that she wouldn’t say that, she really has no way to respond to that without making the situation even more strange than it already is.

“W-what? Why?”

“I just need to check a little suspicion of mine, and you not wanting to move away is only giving me all the confirmation I need.”

Valkyr’s grateful that she has nerves of steel, or else she would be making it even more obvious. Atropos takes one step forward, but she gets on her way before she can get any closer to her former hiding spot.

“Valkyr, your attitude seems all too strange, what are you hiding?”

“Me? Nothing, I swear! W-what would I even try to hide from you?” Says Valkyr, with some small glimpses of nervousness finally slipping through. Atropos keeps pressing forward, trying to make her way past Valkyr as she jumps from side to side doing all she can to block her. Tired from this madness, she shoves her away and stands right in front of the second container. Passing a hand over it, she snaps it open with an elbow, raising her gun and preparing to fire at the will at whatever spills out.

“Wait, no, don’t-!”

But there is nothing, the container completely empty. Bewildered, she takes another look around, checking on the sides and the bottom, yet she still manages to find nothing but thin air. Why did Valkyr make such a big deal about it?

“Valkyr, could you please explain what’s going on?” She asks with a mix of confusion and irritation. Valkyr stands up, dusts herself off a bit and responds more calmly.

“I’ll tell you everything later, let’s just go get this mission finished for now.”

“Seriously? After humiliating yourself to such an extent, you just give me that kind of response?”

“My apologies, but I seriously can’t give you a satisfying answer right now.”

Atropos sighs and takes one last look at the entire room, trying to process all that’s happened.

“You better make sense out of all this insanity, alright?”

She walks out of the room and checks the hallway to see if there are any hostiles on the way to their position, but it’s completely empty. Valkyr looks into the container while she’s distracted, but she can’t find how Deinos managed to escape, not until she looks at the ceiling. There’s a big, ferociously carved-through hole on the roof, and it goes directly to the room right above. She must have clawed off an entire chunk of the ceiling and climbed through the opening she created.

“Lotus? Lotus, did you see all of that?”

“Yes, Valkyr, I can already start identifying a pattern in her behavior.”

“Will you tell me later?”

“I still need to be one hundred percent sure. For now, focus on finishing the mission, you have ten minutes to complete it before I see myself forced to send reinforcements.”

“Understood.” Valkyr says before ending the call. She looks around herself again, just to notice Atropos is gone. She must have left while she was talking to Lotus. The gunfire coming from the hallway gives her all the indication she needs of her current location. Drawing her rifle once again, she sighs and runs out of the room and goes left, immediately having to dodge several stray bullets and small explosives along the way. Taking a turn around the corner shows her just how surrounded she and Atropos actually are, when they meet in the middle of a crossing with all possible paths blocked by Corpus soldiers armed to the teeth. They’re not many, but they’re just about enough to pose a deadly threat if they know where to aim. Atropos checks on her gun and the trail of empty magazines she left behind as she tried all she could to keep advancing through such a tenacious foe. She knows she’s running low on ammunition, and she really doesn’t want to do the unthinkable, but she really seems to have no choice.

“Valkyr…”

“Atropos, are you alright? Are you injured, did they hit you anywhere, can you keep moving like-”

“Shut up, stop asking questions.” Atropos interrupts her, visibly pissed “Just give me three hundred rifle bullets right now, if you want us to survive.”

Valkyr checks anywhere she can before Corpus starts shooting, and when they do, she tosses her all the full clips she can find before rolling out of the enemy fire. Atropos catches them, but her shields also catch the barrage of bullets from all directions. This is what she gets for swallowing her pride for once, it seems, but fate smiles at her by allowing her to find cover before the bullets can physically hurt her. She thinks it’s going to be such a shame that Valkyr won’t be able to see what she’s about to do, but there’s no time left to waste, she has to do it now regardless of that.

Pulling back a small metal part on the gun’s barrel, she makes it shorten and retract on itself. The rest of the gun overlaps on its own pieces and becomes a bit smaller as well. The process takes a very brief instant, but by the end of it, what once looked like a sniper rifle now resembles a very standard assault rifle. Even the scope went into the gun’s inner mechanisms. 

Letting out a long sigh, Atropos gets out of cover and starts by bombarding her enemies with a Hearteater in each direction, bringing down her remaining living targets to just about the exact half. Taking a quick glance at the shrunken gun sitting on her hands, she begins twirling around with the weapon against her left shoulder, and what follows is a hurricane of projectiles flying in all directions, bouncing off the walls, the ceiling, and hitting and tearing down many of the Corpus’ shields at an alarming rate for them. When the first empty clip falls to the floor, Valkyr jumps out of cover, throwing a deadly hook at the nearest enemy’s head and throwing him against the mass of weakened enemies right to the side, brandishing her rifle and unleashing hell upon them before they can respond. More and more empty clips touch the ground as the seconds pass, more and more piles of dead crewmen forming up in the middle of the four long hallways. Not even a single bullet could they fire back by the time the last one of them falls lifeless to the ground.

The crossing has now turned into something more akin to the afterimage of a massacre than a battlefield. The walls are covered in splattered blood, bits and little pieces of entrails, and bullet marks all over. The floor has a thick, small puddle of pure blood formed on top that smears the soles, and the piles of ravaged bodies wall it up preventing it from spilling through. The corpses themselves look totally unrecognizable, still falling over themselves and some of them hitting the living red bath right underneath. Having their limbs blown off and stamped to the walls in tiny bits is honestly the most palatable view in this scenery, compared to blown heads with holes that go right through shattered skulls whose brains keep slowly trickling out to float in the blood, or chests that have been abandoned by punctured lungs and hearts that have been turned to nothing but mush, or even entire torsos that have lost all their entrails, leaving nothing but a disgusting painting of guts and blood to decorate the still fresh victims. The metallic scent of war itself is nothing compared to the atrocious smell of burnt flesh and ridiculous amounts of spilled crimson that coats the entire four hallways. Even the strongest-willed would say goodbye to their meals upon this sight, let alone the smell.

In the end, this matters very little in the long run. They’re just a festival of disgrace now, little more than more bodies to the Warframes’ body counts, even if they’re not all that different from piles of minced meat and bones now. It might cause horror to someone else, but they can do nothing else than step over one of the piles of human flesh and make their way to their objective, leaving a long trail of red footprints where they step. Even now that they’re a good couple dozen feet away from the gore, the scent can still be caught and felt just as strong. As repulsive as it is, it is also very alarming, and anyone else that catches it will notice something is very wrong and get to their position. Now they truly have no time to lose, having wasted precious minutes on such display of terrifying artistry. Sprinting through the long hallway right in front of them, they truly have no opposition left, and their end goal is right in front of them, just a few feet more. The lighting of the room they enter invades their vision, and…

Another monitor. Five, as a matter of fact, which inhabit a very plain-looking room with more cold steel on the walls and the floor. These monitors sit on top of another set of intricate systems, but they don’t seem to be plugged into anything.

“This is it? Did Corpus seriously just throw away an entire battalion just to protect one single computer?” Atropos asks nearing anger. She lazily lets her empty Ascalon fall against the floor and sits down leaning against a nearby column. She hates admitting it, but she used all the energy she had left in that confrontation, and she’s nothing but spent now. She barely has any strength left to move, but any more of this and running would be out of the question. Valkyr isn’t that much better, but at least she can still remain steady on her legs without collapsing. Passing a hand over the screens, she immediately begins the hacking process, but she starts on the wrong foot right away when the coding language is one she doesn’t recognize at all. Seeing herself forced to use a lengthier breaking method, it takes her the next couple minutes to finish. 

The result proves to be just as disappointing. The amounts of logs and content she’s decrypted are long, hefty and seem pretty detailed, but the thing is, they’re in a strange language she can’t identify nor read at all. Still, it’s something, and _quite_ the something this is, so she saves it all in her inbox and sends it to Lotus. She might or might not be able to figure out the contents, and there’s only one way to find out.

“Did you receive them, Lotus?”

“Yes, Valkyr, and just in time. You had about thirty seconds left before I had to see myself forced to send you the reinforcements, but have once again proven to be capable of handling these operations by yourself. Well done.”

“Do you know that language? I couldn’t identify it when I glanced over it.”

“Right now, I cannot really identify it with any other languages I have seen up until now, but it might still be possible to…”

They keep talking, but they’re the only ones that are listening to each other right now. Sure, there’s someone else in there in the form of Atropos, but she’s really not paying attention. Everything they’re saying bounces off her, now that she stands in front of the computer, looking at the many screens and scrolling through logs that seem endless. All of her attention, her entire focus has been put on reading their contents, all for one good reason.

For a moment, she snaps back into her senses, the words Valkyr and Lotus speak entering her head. They mentioned they couldn’t understand what the logs say because they don’t recognize the language, right? Then… Why can she?

Nothing about this language seems foreign to her at all, but she isn’t sure why. She can’t remember when and how she learned the language, or not even the name of it, but the meaning of each and every single word she sees on the screen keep popping into her mind. “Target”, “protection”, “failsafe”, “wounded”, and many others, what do they all mean together? She starts reading the whole document instead of focusing on random words. As soon as she’s past the first paragraph, it all starts making sense…

It’s a series of logs that hold information spanning three years and four months of journal entries. The owner’s identity seems to still be unknown, and they don’t mention it in any of the entries, in fact, no names are mentioned at all, only the initials “D” and “T” here and there. They’re also brought up quite often, so they must have been people close to the journal’s author.

“Atropos, are you coming or not?”   
  


It seems she got too immersed on the reading, and Valkyr calling her brings her back to where she’s standing.

“You’ve been reading the logs in complete silence for an entire minute, and you didn’t notice we were about to leave.” Valkyr adds, tapping her foot with visible impatience. Atropos doesn’t seem to mind it at all, and she just walks towards her, not without putting her hands in her back and downloading the entire journal into her inbox without her noticing. Pages upon pages, she certainly has something to entertain herself for days, and for now, she’ll keep anything she finds out in them to herself. Making their way through the last, dwindled wave of enemies, they take the lift and step out of the grand, but now turmoiled facility, making their way through the snow back to Valkyr’s orbiter. This is going to be a long reading session for both of them when they back to the base.


	7. VI: The Past Having a Blast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atropos starts reading through the first entries of a mysterious journal, but something lurking under the shadows forces her to end her session prematurely.

Atropos hasn’t done anything but stare at her inbox as the notification of her receiving a new message keeps flashing on the screen. She knows very well what the message is, it’s the whole journal she sent to herself in order to read it without anyone else’s presence or interference. They came back to the base around six hours ago, and now she’s standing on the same rooftop where she slept last time. She didn’t do much besides staying away from everyone and avoiding all their conversations, they’re all just gossipers to her anyway. The unopened message still remains on her screen, the notifying icon popping in and out demanding her attention.

Now that the heat of that moment is gone, there isn’t the same aching sense of urgency begging her to read the contents of the lengthy diary, sending the first glimpses of hesitation creeping into her senses. It’s now quite difficult for her to muster up the courage and lay the tip of her finger on the screen to open the journal. She doesn’t feel particularly scared or anything, she just finds the actual length of the entire thing to be quite intimidating, now that she thinks more clearly without all the pressure and adrenaline rushing into her mind. At first, she couldn’t see much of the actual content, but from what she saw, it seemed like many location names were mentioned, none of them which she could actually recognize. Looking them up in the system map shouldn’t be too hard either, so she plans to do it later.

She then remembers Valkyr and the Lotus both also have copies of the same journal. They could find out key details or secrets as soon as they decipher the language and translate it. That was yet another key detail, how does she know a language that is apparently so mysterious and unknown that Corpus couldn’t use the contents of the journal because of it, and even more crucial, even the Lotus herself, despite the impression of wisdom and maturity that she tries to give out, doesn’t know about at all?

Opening a simple file shouldn’t be considered a display of bravery at all, she finds it rather annoying although no one but herself is telling her this, but she still has to overcome something as small as that to see what lies beyond. Finally, she extends her finger and places it over a button in the holo-screen, opening the large file right on the very first page.

There it is again, the paragraph that starts it all, the one she could barely read over when Valkyr forced both of them out of the facility. It isn’t the first entry, however, but rather an introduction. It reads:   
  


_ “The contents of the following texts were all written by subject GD, extracted directly from his personal experiences on a day-to-day basis. None of the things or situations mentioned here are fictional, each and every single entry tells the truth from the author’s perspective.” _

It seems the author was quite the dramatic one. That is indeed a very odd way to phrase the journal’s ownership, and the strange emphasis it makes on the content’s basis on reality doesn’t help matters that much. It also mentions another pair of initials, “GD”, which she certainly knows she’ll have to keep an eye on as they seem to identify the author himself. Time to continue down to the rest of the content.

Aside from the peculiar introduction, the entries start off strong by describing a snowy landscape in excruciating detail. GD also establishes that this climate is present in most of the planet’s surface, leaving no possible option other than Venus. Depending on the final outcome of these entries, he either perished on the planet, lost the journal before he could finish it, or something made him lose interest and stopped adding entries altogether. She’s getting ahead of herself, however. It’s wiser to take one thing at a time instead of creating dumbfounded speculation, those disrespectful Fortuna snakes could definitely use that advice, although she assures herself they would never listen to her.

_ “Day 5, Entry N°2: Although I would have loved the scenery of snowflakes slowly falling down and delicately touching the surface, patiently coating the ground one by one to always form the pale blanket that, despite how chilling it is upon contact, will never fail to bring warmth to the common heart.” _

Fairly pretentious as well, with that way to express himself about something as simple as watching snowflakes fall to the ground. It’s not particularly annoying, or at least not in written form. In person, however…

_ “I still cannot rest with ease, knowing that I will be trapped here without any communications, as long as my ship remains damaged. I just hope that A can figure out on her own that the rest of her squad crashed down here and send help, or else we might get found by less than pleasant people before she does.” _

“A”? That is yet another initial she will have to remember as she keeps reading. The vagueness of the terms he uses for everything will just make matters all the harder if he doesn’t drop proper names later on in further entries, or maybe he just needed to be really careful and secretive with the information in case the diary got retrieved by his enemies? That theory would certainly coincide with the use of initials instead of complete names.

_ “Finding shelter shouldn’t be a hard task around this area, and I will admit there are many caves in my field of view. For now, the storm isn’t too near, and its current strength can be considered fickle, so the need for refuge isn’t immediate. I shall keep searching around the area to have the best possible knowledge of my surroundings. End of entry.” _

For now, it seems the author belonged to a military of some sorts, and someone shot down his ship into Venus. The first entries haven’t told her much, aside from the initials and the planet where everything seemingly took place. Still, she’s barely getting started, and-

“Atropos, there you are.”

You gotta be kidding her. That voice definitely belongs to Limbo, what is he doing there and at basically the worst of times? She closes the journal quickly and turns to face him. Fortunately, it seems he didn’t find out about her possessing a copy of the mysterious diary, as he’s barely placing his hands on the roof and climbing up the pipe to the rooftop. He came alone as well, so that takes away another possible issue.

“Why are you here, on a rooftop? It doesn’t really make that much sense.” He comments with genuine confusion. She doesn’t seem too interested in answering his question, only giving him awkward silence as a response.

“W-well, I thought you would want to come with me, because there actually is something I still think you should also see.”

Now that seems to slightly grab her attention, or at least enough for her to finally look at him instead of  _ through _ him.

“You will have to climb down from here and come with me. The others are waiting at that corner, see?”

He points at a corner between some neon-lit buildings, not too far away from where they are. Two Warframes, Wisp and Banshee, are standing there talking to each other. This wouldn’t be something she would agree to go see, if it wasn’t for the open holo-screen they are both staring at.

“What are they looking at?”

“You will find out once we get there. Come on, follow me.”

Complying with some reluctance, she descends down the pipe with him and walks cautiously.

“Hey, Limbo!” Says Banshee cheerfully, waving at both of them. Limbo waves back, and Atropos stays her usual self, standing right in front of both of them in silence.She looks over their shoulders and stares at the same screen that once held their attention. Right now, it’s just a bunch of text, but it doesn’t look like a mere message at all. After all, why would they make such a big fuss over a simple message? Although, she recognizes the way those words are written… And the language itself in particular.

“Oh, you must be the one that went with Valkyr on the data retrieval mission.” Wisp comments. Atropos’ lack of an answer confirms her assumption. She steps aside, giving her the proper space to get closer to the screen and read more carefully. As she suspected, it’s the same mysterious language the journal is written on. In fact, the contents look shockingly similar. This cannot be a coincidence.

“Are you interested in this?” Banshee asks her, pointing at the text on the screen and pulling her out of her thoughts. “Lotus sent this long journal to everyone in the organization. She said this is what you and Valkyr found when you went to that huge hidden facility.”

Well, that takes away all the discretion and secrecy from the situation. This doesn’t seem too problematic for now, but what if it had been something more personal? Would the Lotus have spread that information just as quickly and eagerly? Most certainly, she thinks.

“None of us have been able to figure out the language, though. The archives don’t show us anything even close either.” Wisp adds.

That is quite the relief indeed, being seemingly the only one that knows how to read it. That extreme exclusivity could signify she’s meant to be the only one that should read the contents of the diary. What she’s read so far didn’t look all that important, just telling the story of someone whose ship crashed down and tried to find shelter.

They keep conversing about the diary for a few minutes, and Atropos makes sure to keep quiet the whole time. Saying anything could mean her accidentally slipping information about the entries that she shouldn’t give to people she doesn’t trust, like them. Their tones seem oddly cheerful to her, until they receive another notification. The message first reads: “Live right now: Plains of Eidolon under attack by Corpus forces and mysterious attacker.”

The thumbnail itself is already nerve-wracking enough, showing a Corpus dropship delivering reinforcements to invading crewmen as they gun down a laughably scant Grineer defensive force, whose forces keep depleting more and more by the second. Corpus has been getting more and more aggressive ever since the incident at the abandoned facility, maybe that has something to do with it? Directly attacking the Grineer is something quite unprecedented from them, though, as it seems rather strange that they would attack one of their biggest trading partners. Sure, they can get away with it for just being an essential arms provider for them, so anything they do to them shall go unpunished just because they cannot afford losing those resources, but it still seems like a very odd move. And then, just as quickly as it began, the attack suddenly ends with a Corpus retreat, even though they suffered minimal losses and caused great havoc in the Grineer formation. This isn’t a fakeout either, as the ship leaves beyond the horizon as quickly as it came.

The live recording ends right there, just in time for another big issue to emerge into the visible sky right above. At least six Corpus cruisers now sit over Fortuna, could they be about to attack the settlement as well? Since when where those even there? The Warframes won’t be taking any chances, grabbing their gear and gathering into larger groups, ready to take any offensives that they might send their way. 

Oddly enough, though, it never comes, as the ships leave their field of vision as quickly as they had appeared. One by one, they fly out of sight, their new courses set towards an unknown destination. What could Corpus be plotting, they wonder, but they can’t really reach any conclusions with how little clues they were given. 

The commotion finally settles for good after a few minutes, after everybody has returned to Fortuna and gone back to their positions and conversations. Meanwhile, Atropos climbs back to her usual spot on the rooftop, but this time Limbo followed her and making sure she didn’t notice. She sits down and opens the journal to start reading again, not remembering where she left it off last time. This gives him more than enough time to identify the language patterns and the document itself in turn. He decides not to say anything and just stay there, even if it means he might get slapped off the building if she turns around.

_ “Day 8, Entry N°3: I still haven’t received any news from A, D or T. I cannot really say I am worried, they’re more than capable enough warriors on their own, but we are being hunted down one by one by the enemy. They won’t take long to find them, and when they do, they will commit their strongest forces against them. Many of us have already fallen because of this, and something tells me I am next on their list. It’s obviously no coincidence that my ship got gunned down when I escaped that dreadnought after the mission went completely sideways. We should have committed more forces than just a pair of squadrons, but they didn’t listen, and they had to pay a high price in return. Z, H, N and F, they all perished thanks to their irresponsibility, this is all their fault.” _

It’s quite the shame that he cannot understand anything in the texts, but Atropos’ body language gives him at least a couple of clues about the content. The read seems to be making her a little uneasy, something quite uncharacteristic from her. Either the text holds personal information that concerns her in a certain way, or the text is just a story that manages to get her engaged emotionally. The latter seems extremely unlikely, though, considering she doesn’t really seem like the type of person to have that reaction to mere literature. The thing in particular that catches his interest is how long she’s been looking at it, more than any of the other frames he’s talked to. Does that mean she can actually read and understand the cryptic language that it’s written in?

Something feels off for her, so she turns around, but there is nothing. Strange, she can swear she felt like she was being observed, although that wouldn’t really surprise her when she considers she’s surrounded by those she sees as liars and gossipers. Enough interruptions, she thinks, as she forces herself to keep reading.

_ “We are practically all that is left, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to keep going under these conditions forever. They far outnumber and outmaneuver us at this point, and any kind of damage we try to deal will be nothing more than just a little bother proportionally-speaking. Being reduced to little more than a meager guerrilla force, this is outright humiliating. A isn’t pleased either, this situation outraged her last time I asked her, and she definitely isn’t someone whose opinions change overnight.” _

Well, if that doesn’t sound like someone quite relatable for her, except for the part involving a dwindling force. If anything, it seems like her own enemy forces are decreasing greatly by the day. She can’t be really sure of that, though. After all, she hasn’t really been around for more than just a few days after being awakened again, but from what she has seen so far, her enemies don’t really seem all that mighty. They might be quite numerous, yes, but it’s not anything she can’t handle.

_ “This cave I’m currently in isn’t the most comfortable of abodes, but it will at least make for a passable shelter until I can regroup with my squad. Although it might take quite a while for that to happen, I trust their capabilities. They aren’t downright incompetent, unlike certain others, at the very least. I shall finish this entry here for now.” _

So far, all that she’s read has told her so much yet so little at the same time. It’s not particularly problematic, but it isn’t pleasant for her either. That should be enough reading for her as well, closing the journal in her screen and tucking in for the rest of the evening and night with… Thin air and a cold rooftop. This really makes spending an eternity asleep inside a cryopod look not as bad as the other frames portray it. At the very least, it’s better than spending the night inside an orbiter with one of those fools, or at least that’s what she thinks…

She’s rolling and shifting with particular unease, but it’s not out of pain or bad thoughts, it’s definitely out of discomfort. Something’s watching her again, she can feel it and it’s keeping her from catching some rest. She’s not even reading anything anymore, so the lurking observer could only be there to make her their prey, that is if she isn’t already. Rushing up to her feet, she reaches back for her Ascalon rifle at the edge of the roof, adjusting the scope and looking at her surroundings. She sees nothing but the same Warframes hanging out with each other, totally oblivious of her presence in the rooftop, but that can’t be right, she knows she felt she was being stared at by something strange, her senses have never failed her, right?

Her gaze catches something reflecting light in a dark corridor, right between two tall neon-lit buildings not too far from her position. Aiming her weapon towards the glimmer in the middle of the darkness, she prepares to pull the trigger and reveal her stalker’s identity, but something rushes into her mind. When she pulls the trigger, she will divert all of these people’s attention towards herself, something she most certainly doesn’t want to deal with. Perhaps it would be better if she went for a more discrete approach.

Climbing down from the rooftop through the familiar pipe, she places her gun on her back and reaches for the left side of her waist, hefting her Kama in her left hand and keeping her vision fixed on the same dark passage. She looks down again, making sure no one has noticed what she’s doing. Fortunately for her, that is the case. Her luck seems to end right there, though, as a powerful shot lands on her shoulder and makes her spin on the pipe, right against a wall. Her shields were up, so she got through it unscathed, although that defensive layer got completely torn down with just that single shot. The sound of her shields shattering caught the other frames’ attention, and now they are growing curious about her current location, situation and status. What a day it has been for her, she thinks, so she just drops down the pipe and lands on her feet, making a hand gesture to the other frames telling them to stay out of her affairs.

It might not be enough, as some of the frames just ignore this gesture and follow her without her noticing, or so they think. She is well aware of their ways, taking one last step before coming to a halt and turning around before them.

“I don’t see how my business is yours as well, at all.” She tells them in a deadpan tone, clenching her free fist. “If you truly have what you oh so call honor, you shall not take one single step further from where you are, do you understand? This is my fight, I don’t want you to get on my way.”

That should suffice as a way to deter them from going any further, turning her back at them and walking to the dark corridor once again. At least that means she won’t be forced to take such a silent route to approach the situation, grabbing her Ascalon rifle once again and aiming at the passage now that it’s right in her line of sight. The stalker went hiding in the shadows once again, it seems, because she’s one hundred percent sure she adjusted her scope correctly. It shouldn’t be too hard for her to hunt down such a treacherous coward anyways.

“Atropos, what’s going on?” Valkyr asks her. “You’re acting really strange right now.” She also seems to be considering approaching her out of suspicion, taking short, quiet steps to close in some of the distance.

“It’s better for me and my current goal not to tell you and your little parade, Valkyr. Discretion and subtlety is something I cannot afford to lose right now, so I have to do this myself without your or anyone else’s intervention.”

That’s not the most convincing response ever for Valkyr, but she seems to have no choice. Sighing, she takes a step back and turns around, giving the others all the indication they need that they shall not intervene this time. They agree, but they won’t move from their spots, just in case something goes very wrong.

Approaching the corridor with caution, Atropos’ grip on her gun remains firm and tight without even the slightest glimpse of a shudder, even when she catches the glimmering silhouette inside her scope once again. Another potent shot lands on her head, tearing to nothing her just-recharged shields and forcing her to feint aside just in case anything else comes in that direction. The other frames caught all of this, drawing their weapons and aiming at the same corridor, and jumping into cover when the powerful attack comes followed by a barrage of bullet fire aimed directly at Atropos. She, however, doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest, dodging once again and lowering her weapon to run straight towards the dark alley to finish this strange encounter by herself. More bullets come at her, but she deflects most of them by twirling her Kama rapidly right in front of herself. The ones she doesn’t toss away miss her completely, landing on the street or nearby walls surrounding her.

She’s just a few feet from uncovering the lurker’s identity, but even when they’re hiding, she can sense when they have run away from their former hiding spot. Looking into the corridor, she notices isn’t a dead end at all, as the other end has a wall that looks fairly easy to climb over. What was once a duel has turned into a full-fledged chase, but she won’t be able to do this alone, as hard as it is for her to admit. Turning around, she looks directly at Valkyr, who already seems to be distinguishing her intentions.

“My target has just escaped, Valkyr, and I will need support to find them before I lose their track.”

Atropos runs into the corridor and jumps over the wall at the other end right after saying this, but Valkyr doesn’t need any further confirmation. Signaling Oberon and Ivara to follow her, the three of them gather in front of the corridor entrance, drawing their weapons and ready to jump into action for what promises to be an interesting hunt.


	8. VII: Party Thrown for a Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deinos' infiltration goes sideways after being discovered by Atropos, and now she will have to find what she's there to grab and escape without being caught by any of the Warframes.

A frantic Alad V scrambles around with his monitors, checking on the same video feed from several different angles. All of them show the same neon-bathed scenery of Fortuna, and the recordings shake a lot, perhaps due to the fact that the object to which the cameras are attached is currently on the move. He just couldn’t believe it, his Deinos had been discovered that easily, and now she was being chased down by the Warframes, giving her very little room for failure, if that was even an option anymore. Squatting and looking under his desk, he finally finds what he was looking for: a microphone. Sure, he could just use a normal video communication method to contact her, but he cannot risk giving away his position like that. A microphone serves perfectly as a more discrete and harder-to-track communication method, and it’s not like he needs to see Deinos’ reactions anyway, especially due to the fact she lacks any at all. Picking up the mic from his ship’s floor and shaking off some dust it had, he brings it closer to his face and finally speaks to his creation:

“Deinos, for the love of Profit, I finally found the mic. Can you hear me?”

Strangely enough, her stopping around a corner is all the confirmation he needs.

“Very well, I’m glad you’re still safe and sound. Remember what you’re here to retrieve, it doesn’t matter that thing is in a language we can’t understand, we’ll deal with that later.”

She starts running again once he finishes his sentence, still not managing to get the pursuing frames off of her.

“Keep them diverted for a bit more, my little foal. I will try to find you an open terminal where you can extract the data, and if I don’t, I will unlock one myself.” He tells her in a surprisingly fatherly voice, turning around to his many screens and closing the live feeds in some of them to get working. Lines upon lines of code fill his monitors while he keeps a special map of the area open in a separate screen. Deinos, meanwhile, comes upon another crossing, one of the ends leading to many orbiters docked right next to each other. She has no time to choose which one to go to, though, seeing herself forced to keep running down a lengthy street before looking behind herself and noticing she’s lost them for now, and they’re not coming from the front either.

“Dammit, you already lost them? I’m not even getting started yet, could you keep distracting them, please?”

Although anyone else would be quite frustrated with this question, she doesn’t even seem to care, turning around and climbing up to the top of the nearest building. From there, she can see her chasers finally entering the street and looking everywhere for her, be it around all the corridors and corners they can find, behind and inside the ships, inside some of the buildings, but they take their time before looking up to the top of the structures. They finally spot her in mere seconds, but Alad sounds pleased throughout her performance.

“Well done, my Deinos. You gave me enough time to find one open terminal. Unfortunately, the computer didn’t contain what we are looking for, it was virtually empty. It seems I will have to open one myself, and that will take a bit of extra time. You have proven to be wonderful at this, could you do it for a bit longer? I promise it’s going to work.”

She was already running again while he was speaking, entering into more and more alleys but never staying too far away from the ships. The Warframes are spreading out too, slowly but certainly surrounding her.

“I got it! Alright, alright, I managed to unlock one unguarded system, but you’ll have to run back to the ships. I’ll mark you the location on your map.”

Quickly opening the map in her holo-screen, a white dot flashes where a particularly white orbiter is located. Climbing up a building right next to her, she jumps out of the alley and back into the street leading to the ships, her shields having absorbed the bullets the frames managed to land on her. They are still right on her tail, but she jumps into the open cargo bay door unscathed.

Her first sight surprises her a little. Of all things she could’ve found, a cryopod just as tall as her, and it seems someone occupies its interior. The inside seems semi-frozen, and its occupant looks like a rather feminine Warframe, just slumbering peacefully with a big mark on the side of her neck… Deinos readies her gun and, with no hesitation at all, fires two shots, breaking through the glass and hitting the dormant frame’s midriff and the right side of her chest. Cold steam instantly escapes through the new holes in the glass, bathing the cargo bay and lowering temperature at least a few degrees. The pod’s still too cold for the now injured frame to start bleeding. Just as cold as the room, Deinos steps aside and walks over to the ship’s navigation board after having done this unassigned side task.

“Deinos, that wasn’t necessary at all!” Alad yells through the mic, audibly alarmed and somewhat upset about her actions, but she doesn’t even have time to mind that. Opening the computer right in front of her, she downloads the files Alad just unlocked for her, the process only taking a few seconds. These few seconds prove to be a little too long, though, as the cargo bay door opens once again. It’s very clear for her who opened it, as footsteps now start resonating through the entire ship. She turns around at the entire room for options. Nothing, just metal, steel and technology surrounds her, except for…

“She’s not here, dammit!” Yells Valkyr, but Ivara points at the upper interior. Their objective could still be there.

“Leave your anger issues for when we find our target.” Ivara tells her. They all go up to the navigation board, only to find it empty… And a big hole torn on the glass window.

“Well, would you look at that, Valkyr?” Ivara also asks rhetorically “It looks like our target _was_ here after all.”

“Why are you taking so goddamn long in there?” Atropos questions from outside in quite the exasperated manner. The Warframes quickly trot out of the ship and debrief her of the situation, just to be interrupted once again by an alarmed Betelgeuse.

“What’s going on and what happened?! That is my sister’s ship, did anything happen to her?!”

Oberon is about to answer his question, but Atropos steps in and grabs Betelgeuse by the shoulder.

“Unfortunately for you, we do not really have time to care about that right now. As you can see, we are in a bit of what you would call a situation, so you either let us, let _me_ do my job and find that foolish thing that tried to shoot me down, or I’ll make you go quiet myself.”

Taken aback by this, he just looks at her in utter shock before staring down at his own feet in defeat. The other frames look at each other’s faces in total disbelief, and they’re about to say something about this exchange, but Atropos just lets go of him, turns around and walks down the street. Before they can walk away and follow Atropos before she gets too far away, however, he speaks up trying to repress his anger:

“L-let me go with you! If it concerns my sister in any way, I need to get involved with this, no matter what! A-and if you don’t, I-I will find a way to get involved anyway, and y-you won’t be able to stop me!”

They look at him with slight surprise, but nod approvingly.  
  


“Do you have your own K-drive, kid?” Oberon asks him, receiving a nervous nod from him as an answer. “Then so be it, come with us as fast as you can and we’ll fill you in with the details.”

“Well done, my Deinos, you did it all perfectly!” Alad shouts praises as his proudest creation through the microphone, but the enthusiastic tone ends as soon as a particular detail comes into his mind. “Why did you attack that defenseless, slumbering Warframe, though? That certainly seemed very unnecessary.”

Deinos doesn’t respond, instead running through the snowy terrain of the Orb Vallis, jumping through boulders, high spots in the field and many other obstacles. When she looks behind herself, however, she spots five Warframes chasing her down at an extremely fast speed, each riding what appears to be some sort of hoverboard. The one leading the charge is her previous target, the one with the bad attitude and the strange-looking rifle. Something, a particular urgency overcomes her senses, and suddenly, her feet feel light, and maybe even a bit numb. As a matter of fact, the rest of her body is starting to feel that way as well. When she looks down instinctively, she notices she’s running at an incredibly fast speed compared to before. She must be running at least three times faster than she was before this sudden rush of energy through her system. This still doesn’t seem to be enough to lose the Warframes riding their hoverboards, but at least they’re not catching up to her that quickly anymore.

To add extra relief, Corpus reinforcements begin flooding the area, blocking the remaining distance between her and her pursuers. They only seem to serve as little more than mere cannon fodder, though, as Betelgeuse easily guns them down one by one with his sniper rifle, seemingly trapped in a trance fueled by the need for revenge. Each shot he has to take threatens to make him lose balance on his K-drive as he rides at maximum speed, but he barely manages to stay on it by the toes of his feet. Those Corpus soldiers that don’t get shot down merely get hovered over or knocked down by the Warframes, forcing more and more to step in and try to stop them.

“Keep running, my little Deinos, you can do it!” Alad yells filled with excitement. What should’ve been a short sprint seems eternal, as the Warframes keep chasing her down and forcing her to push her rendezvous point further and further away. Her pace is slowing down too, no longer running at a ludicrous speed that could make it harder for the Warframes to catch her, giving them the perfect opportunity to cut much of the distance and be just a mere couple dozen feet from catching her now.

In a move that surprises everyone, Alad included, Deinos runs once again at the ridiculous speed she had before, if not even faster, but not without being preceded by an ugly ripping sound. Bolting away through the snow, it takes no time for her put a hefty amount of distance between herself and her foes before running out of steam and falling head-first into the snow. The Warframes can’t take advantage of this, however, due to a wall of crewmen blocking the way and their aims as well. If they want to get to their target right now, they will have to face them all first, and Betelgeuse answers this call by firing the first shot that initiates the brawl.

Jumping off their boards and drawing their weapons, the Warframes get to work, shooting enemies down left and right whenever they try to approach them and get in range. Corpus men fall by the dozens, barely having time to react and fire one or two shots at the frames that stand with their back against each other, slowly spinning and keeping a constant stream of projectiles going in their direction. Corpus doesn’t take long to prove to be too overwhelming, however, as a pair of shots per trooper turns into more and more of a relentless barrage by those few that survive, who quickly grow in numbers as the frames run out of ammunition.

“Did we really run into a trap?” Valkys questions in a tone completely devoid of any amusement. Atropos, however, isn’t going to have any of it, when she turns her head and sees Deinos finally waking up. Although she’s barely getting up to her knees, not really looking too aware of her surroundings, this means they are running out of time and she might run away again. Betelgeuse is the one to take the lead before her, reloading his Vectis in a split-second and firing at the crewman standing right in front of him. The bullet comes out leaving a particular trail of light blue hue, and the effect upon landing on the soldier’s head isn’t any less surprising. It’s a clean headshot, ignoring the crewman’s shields completely, but somehow, the shot divides into various fragments and these pieces exit his head in different directions, just right after the shot breached his skull and punctured his brain. The little fragments travel just as quickly as the original bullet, perforating many other crewmen’s helmets and going straight inside their skulls. What would have originally been a standard headshot turned into a scattershot that killed at least ten to thirteen people instead of just a single one.

This marks the beginning of a short, but bloody onslaught, with all the other frames unleashing their abilities at once and throwing the enemies surrounding them into total disarray. Exploiting the chaos isn’t that hard, jumping over piles of lifeless crewmen or mutilated body parts, just because Valkyr couldn’t contain herself, and denying her stress release isn’t really something you want to unless you want to lose a few pounds of weight by getting your limbs chopped off your body.

Deinos shakily gets back up to her feet and limps away from there, taking advantage of the Warframes being distracted by the fighting. More snowy plains await her, as it seems, but she can hear Alad’s voice speaking to her once again.

“For Profit’s sake… You’ll have to forgive me once again, my little foal, but the current spot you’re located is way too unsafe. I need you to go to a clearer area and get prepared for extraction. Come on, just a last little effort and it’ll be over, could you do it for me, please?”

Once again, it is quite surprising that she doesn’t at the very least sigh upon hearing this, but her usual silence doesn’t seem that reassuring to Alad this time.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that now. It’s literally just a five-minute stroll down from where you are, the frames are currently distracted and more reinforcements for you are coming in, the chance couldn’t be any more perfect than this.”

Surprisingly, this is what makes her finally speak:

“I… I will be there.”

Alad was shaken, surprised by hearing her voice. It sounded rather pained to him.

“Deinos?... My dear Deinos, is there something wrong? Are you feeling well?”

She doesn’t respond, instead just quietly obeying his orders and walking downhill to where she has to go. A mission, is a mission, at the end of the day, and nothing can change that, at least not right at that moment.

The journey to the new extraction point, although short in relative distance, proves to be agonizingly long for Deinos, who seems to have run out of energy after sprinting so desperately up in the Vallis, and she can barely put one foot in front of the other now. Her “walking” could be barely qualified as such right now, being nothing more than clumsy stumbling and limping, definitely not enough to lose the Warframes that are finally chasing her again. Corpus won’t relent so easily, though, throwing one last squadron of way better-equipped crewmen right in between and stopping them from going any further. Atropos, already tired of all she’s had to deal with just to get to her target, slaps Betelgeuse’s gun away and steps forward, ending the soldiers’ lives with one single Killswitch.

Nothing stands between the Warframes and a worn-out Deinos now. They can strike now that their target is more defenseless than ever before, or, well, they could have, but a Corpus vessel starts descending to her position, aiming its cannons at the frames. That ship must be her cab out of the sector, it seems, and by the looks of it, it’s not going to take any chances. The Warframes barely manage to roll out of the way as the ship fires its machine guns straight to the ground, right were they used to stand, instantly evaporating the snow off the dirt. Atropos quickly points her rifle at Deinos, ready to deliver a swift killshot, but the pilot seems to be aware of this sudden move, redirecting the gunfire of the ship’s weapons at her and forcing her to dodge again. This gives Deinos enough time to realize what’s happening, and her stumbling gets even more frantic upon looking up and seeing the ship right above.

“Dear Lord, she’s getting away, come the hell on!” Betelgeuse complains, and the others look just as displeased as him, especially Atropos. She looks just about ready to bolt forward, grapple Deinos and kill her with her own hands, but Valkyr and Oberon grab her by the shoulders before she can pull such a risky move.

“Let go of me, you’re stopping me from doing my job.” She tells them in total annoyance.

“Well, of course, if your job involves getting yourself killed senselessly, that is.” Oberon whispers at her very closely. Instead of deterring her, though, this only seems to rile her up even further, as she shakes and tries to wriggle free from their grasps. Ultimately, it doesn’t work, and without her arms free to raise her gun, she can’t even pose a threat to Deinos as the ship finally lands on the ground near them, slowly opening the cargo bay door. Once it’s fully open, Deinos stumbles in and lies down on the cold steel floor, throwing her equipment to the side and waiting for the ship take off from the ground.

“How do you expect me not do anything after all she tried to do to me, and right as she’s lying down right in front of us?” Atropos keeps complaining “This is ridiculous, are you out of your minds?”

But none of them say anything, instead pulling her back and momentarily seizing her rifle off her hands. They quietly watch the ship close its back entrance and take off into the sky, flying up into space once again. All of that chasing, sprinting, slaughtering and panicking, all for little more than nothing.

The sound of electronics powering up averts their gazes from the ship, drawn towards a row of crewmen aiming their loaded guns against them. The Warframes ready their own weapons and prepare for yet another fight, but unfortunately, it’s not going to come. The Corpus soldiers slowly fall back and run into the Vallis. By the time the frames have gone back uphill, they barely have enough time left to watch the remnants of all Corpus sent to this place with the sole purpose of stopping them from getting to Deinos, and despite all the casualties they suffered, it seems they succeeded. A dropship comes from beyond the horizon, and lands right in the middle of the field, waiting for them to rally inside. The crewmen retreat to the ship, many of them dragging the wounded and the corpses of their fallen comrades through the snow. Just a minute or two later, the dropship takes off back into the sky after everyone has gotten in. As it seems, the Warframes won’t even be able to end the day on a high note, slowly making the journey back to Fortuna.

Back inside the ship that rescued Deinos, Alad turns around in his pilot seat, getting up quickly and trotting down to the cargo bay.

“Good job, my little foal, you did wonderfully down there!” He praises her, grabbing her by her armpits and pulling her back up to her feet. “You really make me proud, you know?”  
  


Her silence surprises and worries him, looking directly into her face.

“Deinos, what’s wrong? You’re not down there anymore, you can speak to me now.”

He inspects her up and down with his eyes, until he notices something strange about her posture. She’s not fully pressing her left foot against the floor, instead keeping it up for as long as she can manage. Curious about this, Alad crouches and grabs her foot, making her wince and recoil a little. That spot seems to hurt for some reason. Telling her to turn around, he looks at the place he just brushed over, just to see it torn apart and covered in blood.

“Dear Profit, Deinos, you ripped your ankle apart! How did this even happen?”

She keeps expressing clear pain through her body language, clearly bothered by him touching that area.

“I had to run…”

“You ran away at that speed after running out of steam? What were you thinking?”

“I… I didn’t want to lose the opportunity…”

Alad shakes his head, grabs a nearby piece of cloth and soaks it with some grey liquid in a glass bottle, wrapping it around her wound.

“You need to be more careful, Deinos. You can’t go around hurting yourself like that, it’s not ok.”

He stands up, locking an arm around hers and slowly guiding her out of the cargo bay. They go up to a small room containing a table and a matching pair of chairs, a desk with some books, a pen and a notebook filled with beautiful handwriting; but the most captivating item without a doubt is the empty cryopod standing right in the middle. Alad gently drags Deinos into the cryopod, handing her a small kavat plushie of all things before lowering the pod’s door.

“How about this? For your amazing performance and the great effort you put into the mission today, I’ll take you somewhere you’ll be able to sample the most exquisite terran treats we can find on Earth. Does that sound good to you?”

Surprisingly, she gently nods to answer his offer before laying down on the pod’s rather cozy interior as Alad lowers the thick glass door, sealing it but without activating the hibernation function, just letting her rest inside peacefully. Alad’s exit lets silence invade the room without any resistance, and Deinos doesn’t take long to relax under these conditions, or well, whatever her interpretation for relaxation might be.

Alad sits back on his pilot seat, letting out a long sigh and looking out into space from the window right in front of him. He can allow himself to smile for once, opening his ship’s installed terminal and searching for the data Deinos retrieved. He keeps the ship in orbit and opens the long document once he finally finds it, whistling with surprise and appreciation.

“Well, well, what do we have here? This thing sure promises to be one hell of a read.” He comments to himself, glancing over lengthy paragraphs he doesn’t understand at all with a mad grin and a glass of cold wine in his hand resting on the left armrest. “Those damn Warframes thought they achieved a roaring victory when they stole you and then proceeded to delete you from the database, didn’t they? I wonder what secrets you hold for me, hmm…”

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by a sudden call to his terminal. Answering, it turns out to be the Board of Directors, and they look less tense than they did last time they called him.

“Gentlemen!” Alad tells them with excitement “Greetings once again! I assume you are already aware of my creation’s little operation, or am I mistaken?”

The members of the board remain stoic as ever, but that's more than enough for him. At the very least it’s way better than the great disappointment they expressed last time.

“Yes, Alad, we are aware of your subject’s… _Antics_ ,” Speaks the member at the center “and how many men we had to lose for her own sake. What is your response to that?”

Although taken aback by this question for a brief instant, he recovers his grin just as quickly and answers with matching confidence.

“I think you will find this to be worthy of your interest.”

Opening the long foreign journal on a separate screen, he turns it around and shows it directly to the members of the board, who look at each unsure of what to say.

“What are we exactly looking at, Alad?” Asks one of them, making him widen his grin even further.

“What you are looking at right now, my fellows, is what was once thought to be lost thanks to the efforts of the Tenno to ruin our priceless discovery, and with this, we have proven their valiant sacrifice to have been all useless. Gentlemen, this right here is the extensive journal of our mysterious individual that for now we know as ‘GD’, and this couldn’t have been possible if it hadn’t been for the great display of strength and determination that Deinos showed down there, wouldn’t you agree?”

At first, it seems his corporate speak didn’t manage to persuade them in the slightest, admittedly making him just a little nervous. However, their eventual nods of approval ease him up, allowing himself a long, quiet sigh of relief and fixing his position on his seat.

“And how is your progress regarding Project Diomedes?” Another member of the board questions “May we remind you that you were the one who told us that Deinos was going to be just the beginning?”

“Oh, most certainly not, don’t worry. I made that very clear for a very good reason, after all, because she will indeed be the first of many more subjects to come, and then we’ll see if mass-producing Warframes is a profitable endeavour or not. If you ask me for my opinion, I think the results we’ve seen so far prove that they indeed are.”

“You better not disappoint us, Alad. The funding you’re receiving from us to fuel this project is making a big dent in our vaults Profit itself wouldn’t be pleased to see.”

“I promise to return your funds tenfold, gentlemen. You have my word.”

And with that, the call ends. Alad takes a sip of his wine and sets it on a nearby table.

“Hmm, I should start thinking about a name for the next subject…”

The Warframes down in Venus don’t share the same joy with him. It’s a long walk back to Fortuna for them, giving them enough time to stare around and contemplate all the havoc that was caused by the recent assault. They find it a mess, all just to let their target escape mostly unscathed, and yet they succeeded, letting Deinos get away with whatever she went to do at Fortuna.

“I could’ve killed her, I could’ve shot her dead right there and then.” Atropos complains, still unable to get over Oberon and Ivara containing her from sniping Deinos before she could get on the ship. The others just ignore her as they keep walking through the snow, although Betelgeuse still seems particularly worried about something. His concern gets confirmed when he spots Banshee running towards them, making them stop for a moment just to wait for her. They seem surprised when she arrives leaning down, holding up one hand and breathing heavily.

“J-just a moment, I need t-to catch my breath.” She tells them. It seems she isn’t really that much of a runner “Dammit, how did you all manage to run all of that distance without getting tired? Sheesh…”

“We didn’t.” Oberon clarifies, placing a hand on her shoulder “Most of the pursuit was done on top of our K-drives, or at least the part that involved chasing her.”

“Alright… Whew, just a bit more… Hah, I think I’m better now.”

“Is there something wrong?” Valkyr asks.

“No-actually, y-yes, there is something you need to see, Betelgeuse.”

“M-me?” Betelgeuse questions pointing at himself and sounding quite nervous “W-what is it?... Oh, please, tell me it doesn’t involve-”

“I-it involves your sister, Betelgeuse. She…”


	9. VIII: There is No Peace Without Disturbance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betelgeuse returns to Fortuna only to face the ultimate horror caused by Deinos. After all, there are no actions without consequences.

An eternity, it feels like. The air is charged with enough tension and despair to leave the entire population of a ten-story building feeling uneasy, but that isn’t the case. This sorrow, this quiet is all concentrated in a half-dozen of Warframes standing outside a closed orbiter. Their seriousness can be read in their body language, but there’s something else, a collective flinch whenever they hear something coming from the inside. It’s a painful whimper, a desperate, hopeless cry of terror that, shockingly, comes from another Warframe, Betelgeuse. They don’t need to get inside the ship to find out what’s happening, they can make themselves quite a clear idea of what he’s going through.

The ship’s interior still remains clean and tidy, except for the breached cryopod and Betelgeuse kneeling in front of it, palms pressed against the cold glass barrier. The last few minutes have been absolute hell for him, when he arrived at his sister’s ship, just to find a massive hole in the front window, an open terminal, and most tragically, a punctured cryopod, and her sister was still inside. The shots went through the glass and hit her right lung and liver, all while she was asleep and still recovering from her neck injury. At least she didn’t have to suffer or feel the crushing pain of the bullet holes in her body. Fortunately, she’s still alive. The shots might have been devastating, but they weren’t enough to take her out. When he arrived, she was being attended inside the pod by a couple of Warframes as they were keeping her alive. Right now, she rests with her wounds under control, but she’s still in critical condition. She won’t stay there for long, she’ll be transferred to a new pod and submerged in medical fluids for her to have a more controlled recovery, but the other frames headed out to find the replacement and left both of them alone inside the ship.

Betelgeuse is an absolute mess right now. No wonder the other frames outside could hear him scream. His sister just lays there, wounded, merely at the brink of death if a wrong move was done. She’s all he has left. and now she’s struggling for survival. He can’t open the pod, he can’t cry for her to wake up, he can’t do anything. At this very moment, all he feels aside from pain is hopelessness, being unable to do anything, at least the most modest of acts for her well-being. He’s completely useless to her right now, and yet she’s everything he has left. All he can do is cough and whine, drowning in his sorrow, being the only thing breaking the awfully heavy silence bathing the ship’s interior. Perhaps she could afford being without him, but if she was gone, then he…

“N-no… Why, why you… Why you?! Why did it have to be you?!”

Filled with conflicting emotions, he can only press his head against the cold floor, staying motionless just like that for the rest of the time it takes the other frames to bring the replacement pod. He ends up staying like that for about half an hour, oblivious of everything else but Aldebaran resting inside the damaged cryopod right in front of him.

“S-sis… I couldn’t protect you…” He says, almost whispering in an unhearable low voice. Most of the agony seems to have numbed, but he still doesn’t want to move. Silence expresses the rest of the pain he doesn’t through spoken words right at this moment, and yet… He can’t help but wonder how she manages to look so peaceful, so at ease, resting like nothing has happened, even with two big bullet holes in her torso. Hell, her armor’s still stained by the blood that dripped down from them, yet it feels like it doesn’t matter. In hindsight, it really doesn’t, considering the medical fluids will most likely wash it off and accelerate the healing process, but it still feels a tad unsettling for him to see her so peaceful after everything around her has been disturbed in one way or another. It shouldn’t surprise him, though. That’s just the way of the asleep… Or the dead.

His blood-chilling thoughts get interrupted by the cargo bay door opening, making him stare back over his own shoulder. The helpful Warframes must have arrived at some point and then left, but they left a new cryopod behind, and now Limbo and Oberon are carrying it into the ship. They either look really confident, or they are just about to lose their balance at any second. Enough mourning for now, Betelgeuse tells himself, shaking his head and getting up to his feet, walking over to give them a helping hand.

“Easy, easy…” Limbo tells him, making some room for him to grab a strong hold of one of the pod’s edges. The extra pair of hands already seems to make the two frames struggle a lot less with the weight they are carrying. A few steps into the ship later, and all the participants finally place the new pod right next to the damaged one.

“Alright… Phew…” Limbo takes a moment to catch his breath “Here comes the hardest part…”

The three men settle around Aldebaran’s damaged cryopod, Betelgeuse in front and the other two on each side. Nodding at each other, they prepare as Betelgeuse presses the button that takes off the glass barrier. A few eternal seconds later, and Aldebaran now lies without anything between her unconscious self and the frames.

“Please excuse me, sis...”

Placing his hands on each side of her waist, he first pulls her torso out of the pod and then drags her up over his shoulder. At first, her body weight makes him lose balance for a second, but Limbo and Oberon are there to provide extra hands and help him before things go wrong. Opening the new cryopod’s clean, thick glass barrier, he sets her down inside the cozy interior, gently placing her head on the soft headrest. He steps away from her when it’s done, glad the process went smoothly and without issues.

“Don’t activate hibernation,” Oberon tells him “we have to wait for the medical fluids to be brought here to submerge her into them inside the pod, or otherwise her recovery will be significantly more delicate and problematic.”

“How long will that take?” Betelgeuse asks.

“They should be back here soon, no more than five or ten minutes if they take their time. They should be able to do the process by themselves, so I’d say we are finished for the time being.”

Betelgeuse nods timidly and follows both of them outside, not without taking a glance back at Aldebaran inside her new cryopod. Still peaceful just like she was before, it seems. He wonders how much longer it will take her to wake up, and how many changes will she have to adapt to when that happens. Sighing, he closes the cargo bay door to let his sister rest with quiet and privacy. At least that won’t kill her, it  _ shouldn’t _ kill her.

The reunited group watch Betelgeuse walk back to his own orbiter, never taking his gaze off the ground. It is completely normal and natural to feel bad for him, but…

“Do I have to say it?” Valkyr questions with a less positive tone. The others turn their heads and stare at her in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Limbo questions. Valkyr shakes her head and takes one single step forward, keeping her gaze fixed on Betelgeuse as he slowly treads back to his ship.

“How much longer are we going to play ignorant and pretend everything fits? For the last few weeks, We have done mission after mission, errand after errand, all of them with these new people, and not once we have taken a step back to think about the people we’re dealing with?”

She certainly sounds confused and annoyed at the same time, but the others clearly don’t have a strong answer they can give her, so she continues undeterred.

“I don’t have to talk about Atropos, do I? We all are clear that she's nothing but an entitled asshole, right?”

They nod simultaneously, except Limbo, who just stares away as unnoticeably as he can.

“Great! So I don’t have to talk about that and jump directly into what I think is the elephant in the room: I find it very irritating that we have just stuck with those two siblings and rolled with it like nothing's wrong or seems off. Think about it, how much do we actually know about those two?”

Their lack of a response is the only answer she needs.

“See? That’s the great issue! How does this not bother you at all? The only significant thing we know about those two is that they are siblings, and that’s it!”

Oberon seems a little worried about her getting more and more workep up as she speaks, so he tries to calm her down.

“Valkyr, I don’t think-”

“No, this isn’t about you thinking or not, this is about those two and how suspicious they are! The thing is, the big issue is, have you ever stopped for a moment to think about why Aldebaran, who obviously is a Warframe just like us, needs so much special medical treatment and time to recover from a couple injuries? I bet you haven’t, and if she’s just like us, then it doesn’t make sense! Nobody else besides her needs such a careful and lengthy treatment to recover, and we’re supposed to treat it like it’s normal-?!”

“Valkyr, for the love of…” Oberon interrupts, but takes a deep breath to avoid losing control “Listen, you are right, it isn’t normal, it feels sort of suspicious and I,  _ we _ understand your position, but-”

“That’s what I’m trying to say! I don’t think they’re ill-intentioned or mean bad to us at all, but with how little we-”

“Valkyr, listen here.” Oberon grabs her by the shoulders “This is just something you cannot say right now. Any other time we can speak calmly, but right now, when he’s dealing with a big amount of grief and worry, when his sister’s in critical condition, and when we cannot afford to stress the kid out any further, this is something we shouldn’t speak about at all, it’s just not right. Do you get it, do you understand, or will you let your anger overcome your senses and turn you into an insensitive gossiper once again?”

Valkyr doesn't respond. Her shock is almost palpable, but she doesn’t try to shrug him off either. She just stands there, static, motionless and without uttering a single word. She looks… Regretful in a sense, and Oberon seems satisfied enough with this reaction, nodding to her and letting go of her shoulders. Even with this, she still doesn’t move, shivering just about enough to be noticeable, but for some particular reason, Oberon doesn’t seem concerned at all, and neither does Limbo. Ivara’s the only one to step in and shake her out of her trance, making her gasp and look around herself in a strange panic that seems to just last that instant. Staring down at her feet, she stops shivering, looking pained and regretful, a stark contrast to how she acted just a few seconds ago. Finally, she speaks up in such a low voice that it could barely pass as a whisper.

“... I did it again… Didn’t I…”

Pulled into a tight hug by her friend Ivara, she allows herself to sob and shudder again, burying her face deep into her shoulder. Ivara gently pats her back, doing her best to console her quietly.

“Shh, it’s alright, you have nothing to worry about.” She whispers, and this seems to calm Valkyr down. The situation proves to be rather awkward for Limbo, who just looks away, while Oberon seems as serious as nonchalant as ever, but Limbo interrupts any train of thought he might have been having by asking him a question.

“How has it managed to affect her for so long?”

Oberon turns his head to pay more attention.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Limbo continues “I’m referring to the Alad incident, you know exactly which one.”

Oberon seems hesitant to respond, but ultimately musters up the courage to address that subject:

“Well, of course, as you can see, she’s just had another episode of distrust mixed with anger, and I think you can already pinpoint the inner cause of it.”

Limbo seems to accept this response, but he still has yet another question in mind.

“Does she…”

“Still want to murder him in the most brutal way she could possibly manage? Absolutely.” Oberon interrupts with this short, but blunt and precise answer “Be more than sure, when she finally finds the chance to enact a proper vengeance in her own terms, the most talked-about thing for days and maybe even weeks will be how much excruciating torture she will have put him through, down to the smallest detail. Will it pretty be pretty? No, why would it be? The scenery is going to be downright vomitive at best.”

“You say all these things like they’re guaranteed to happen.” Limbo tells him.

“Because they are. You know just how fierce, tenacious and at times reckless she can be when she’s determined to do something, no matter what it is.”

Limbo nods understandingly, that sounds genuinely scary to him, so he could use not getting her against himself, ever. A few minutes of chit-chatting and the group splits up, all of them going their separate ways. Limbo isn’t going alone, however, as he has unexpected company, which turns out to be Wisp… And that’s something he finds rather unfortunate.

“I saw what you did back at ‘Baran’s ship, Limbo. Aren’t you just a selfless, noble one?” She asks in a teasing manner, making him shake his head trying his best to ignore her while he keeps walking. This, however, proves to be a difficult task, considering Wisp’s little habit of walking mid-air right next to him, which is definitely quite distracting.

“That is none of your business, Wisp.” He tells her in the most deadpan voice he can make, but it doesn’t dissuade her at all. At the very least she hasn’t gotten in the way  _ yet _ , but Limbo doesn’t seem like he’ll be able to withstand this showcase of silliness for much longer… And then she starts swimming through the air. Swimming, through the air, just like it’s a completely normal thing for her to do and it’s not weird at all, but Limbo definitely seems confused by this.

“Alright, what the hell are you doing now?”

“If you couldn’t tell, I’m practicing my swimming technique. I don’t want to get rusty in case we go on an underwater mission.”

“Yes, I could notice that, I’m not blind, but I don’t like how normal it is for you to be doing it mid-air, right in front of me, and you expect me to treat it like it’s completely normal.”

“Aww, I thought you would find it at least a bit entertaining…”

And as usual, he just shoves back down to the ground and keeps going his own way before she gets back up to her feet.

“If you associate entertainment with confusion and annoyance, then you did it, you achieved your end goal with… Whatever that was.” He tells her before turning around and entering his orbiter, shutting the cargo bay door before she can sneak in. Not like she was going to anyway, considering she hasn’t even gone back up to her feet. Sighing, she rolls back up and makes her way past his ship, giving it a glance full of confusion.

“What should I do for you to treat me like a friend, Limbo…”

The long streets right in front of Oberon and Ivara give them more than enough space to tread slowly and converse with each other.

“What do you think about this entire situation?” Ivara asks him.

“You know very well I can’t bring myself to agree with Valkyr. We’ve tried our best to keep her from dwelling in her hatred, but if those episodes keep happening, I don’t think we’ll be able to contain her for much longer.”

“I still haven’t lost hope, you know? That’s why I won’t let her succumb to her wrath, I know she’s better and more than just that.”

“Underneath all that anger? Perhaps, but that’s a version of herself I think we won’t be able to recover.”

Ivara goes quiet.

“Things have changed, Ivara, for all of us, but especially for her. I know it’s hard to let sink in, but even though it’s difficult to accept, nothing will ever be the same as it was before, and that includes both all the good and the bad things.”

“I want to hope, at the very least.” She tells him, breaking her own silence “I understand all the things you’re saying, but I still cannot accept them. I just won’t let my friend turn into a heartless monster consumed by the desire for revenge.”

“You can still try your hardest to keep her ‘safe’, just don’t be surprised if the worst outcome actually happens.”

And right after giving her this recommendation, he turns to walk back to his orbiter, but she has one more thing to say:   
  


“Will I still be allowed to mourn and feel sorrow if that occurs?”

That question certainly hits him in a different way. His usually calm and kept-together posture and mannerisms appear a little shaky, clearly affected by what he’s just been asked, but why would it land so hard on him? He quickly recovers, however, walking away without delivering a response. She’s almost entirely sure she saw him nod slightly, though.

“I heard most of your conversation, Ivara.” Valkyr told her. Somehow, she managed to calm down after going through whatever she dealt with was, although she still seems to be shivering and unknowingly flinching from time to time. “I’m glad you still have faith in me, but I wouldn’t be so optimistic if I were you.”

“I know you are more than just the valkyrie without her armor, Valkyr.” Ivara says, turning around and placing a hand on her shoulder “Your identity doesn’t have to and won’t be determined by the actions of a mad corporate scientist, your identity isn’t based on that.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Valkyr questions, showing faint hints of shakiness in her voice as well “That monster who calls himself Alad V, he almost literally took my hope, my armor, my protection, but he also took part of my mind, my emotion, he literally took my identity.”

Ivara stays quiet, not knowing how to respond to this and allowing Valkyr to continue.

“I’m not the Valkyr you knew before the incident, and I want you to understand that. Help me, if you want to, but don’t treat me like I’m handicapped, disabled or unable to do my job, because that isn’t the case at all. Mistreat me that way, and you will lose my respect, because I’m still your equal or at least that’s how I expect to be treated, understood?”   
  


Ivara doesn’t respond, but Valkyr can still assume she will agree and accept these terms. Nodding respectfully, the valkyrie frame paces out of the scenery, most likely going back to her own ship, leaving Ivara as the last one standing there in silence, but the quiet only lasts until Valkyr is far away enough for Ivara to speak to herself without being heard.

“I understand… And I hate it.”

A few hours later, Oberon’s back inside his orbiter, having a video-call with Limbo and Ivara. The mood isn’t particularly great after Valkyr’s little meltdown left a sour aftertaste. It seems the last half hour of conversation has been nothing but small talk about things they might do on their free time or places they want to go. Nothing noteworthy, at the very least, so he pays the bare minimum of attention while doing other stuff and the conversation continues for him in the background. For now, he’s placing most of his focus on keeping track of a particular mission currently happening, or well, about to happen on Earth. There isn’t any information in plain sight about the individual or possible squad selected for the task, and he doesn’t seem in a hurry to show it on screen either. For now, the orbiter that appears on the video seems to be descending into the atmosphere, approaching a particular outpost hidden in the middle of a jungle. It does look familiar to him, but he’s sure it’s not a place he’s visited too many times, although it seems whoever’s inside that orbiter finds it a very important place, or at least that’s what the brief mission description says.

“So what do you think, Oberon?”

Oberon sees himself forced to get out of his thoughts and back into reality, as he’s now been asked a question by one of the other two in the call. The voice sounded rather feminine to him, so it must have been Ivara, but it could also have been Limbo doing a really good impression of her… Yeah, the former seems more plausible.

“About what. Ivara? My apologies, I wasn’t paying attention.” He replies politely, and Ivara doesn’t seem to mind being ignored all that much.

“I was talking about how Excalibur has been pretty absent for these past few days. In fact, nobody has seen him today either.”

“I mean, maybe he’s been rather busy with some personal stuff, but I can’t really tell.”

Well, if that isn’t oddly suspicious, and Ivara knows it is, so she isn’t going to miss the chance to question what’s really happening.

“Is there something you know that we don’t, Oberon?” She asks him.

“Well, about that…”


	10. IX: One Last Visit to the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excalibur goes on a personal mission to confront a darker, unsettling aspect of his recent past.

The scenery underneath the descending orbiter couldn’t be any more breathtaking. The great jungle with healthy green leaves, the occasional streams and rivers of flowing life, the plains, fields and hills with abundant wildlife trotting about, and the many flowers decorating the titanic trees that crown the whole view, all of this beneath the approaching ship with engines whose sound is more comparable to a gentle purr. The ship slowly and quietly approaches a seemingly abandoned outpost, or at least that’s what could be told at first glance, due to the lack of any guards, soldiers or pretty much anything living or robotic around the landing area. The pilot could be mistaken, though, as the place itself seems pretty well-maintained, although that could also mean it was left recently by whomever once owned or took care of it. Circling the place for about a couple minutes, the ship finally lands on the intended zone as its cargo bay door starts opening. The ship’s air in the interior takes a few seconds to decompress and balance with the rest of the air in the environment, and once it’s finished, the first foot steps out, followed shortly after by its owner finally walking into the open. 

As it turns out, the mysterious pilot is in fact Excalibur, rapidly twirling his Skana blade and analyzing his surroundings, particularly surprised. After all, it’s no use to keep his guard raised when there’s nothing to fight against. It seems he was at least expecting the bare minimum of resistance from whomever is or was supposed to take care of the outpost, not a completely desolate area without any explanation. Sighing heavily, he puts his blade on his back and starts walking around, trying to find anything worth his interest. This ultimately proves to be a futile effort, the outpost wasn’t only abandoned, but sacked from all items, resources and valuable materials, rendering it almost totally useless if it wasn’t for its still existing strategic position.

Strange, isn’t it? Although Excalibur doesn’t seem to find it that way. After the initial surprise, instead of looking worried, suspecting his surroundings or at the very least acting with boredom, he walks into the base with abnormal seriousness, as if the initial surprise was pretty much it and he managed to process the entire situation and accept it as normal.

Going further inside the lonely base, he finds more and more of the structure and its systems in perfect state and just the barest hint of rust product of the region’s humidity. As it seems, this place was willingly deserted, showing zero signs of damage that could indicate conflict or a hostile encounter. The many monitors and systems all over the outpost aren’t any less suspicious, countless lines of code running through the screens over and over again, and they don’t seem to make any sense either. Excalibur approaches one of the monitors and tries to gain access, and although it just takes a couple key presses and sorting out a pair of menus, he enters the main system. It’s not really that useful in the end, though, as it seems the computer got purged from all files and data it once had by its previous keepers before they left, basically leaving it empty and useless to him right now. Finding nothing else he can do with it, he leaves it alone and keeps walking deeper into the place.

Even under such perfect conditions, it’s quite hard to make a makeshift tunnel made out of metal scraps looks better than just sloppy, and that’s exactly what he thinks as he passes through it, observing and partially exploring the sections of the outpost that have been claimed back by nature. Grineer architecture and engineering at its finest, everybody.

“Resistant to environmental hazard my ass.” Excalibur says to himself as he keeps wandering. He happens to come upon two empty kubrow nests, devoid of eggs or anything inside. In fact, the nests themselves look like they were turned into an absolute mess before they were abandoned, most likely caused by the same people that looked over the outpost. So much for being considerate to innocent animals, it seems, and perhaps a bit of a stretch, even for Grineer standards if they ever had any. The tunnel is long as rather dark at the middle, and it doesn’t really seem to safe to traverse. Excalibur knocks on the rusted metal of the tube, just to watch several tiles of what was supposed to be steel tightly bolted to the ceiling fall off, each making an ugly sound when they land on the ground. Quite reassuring of his safety indeed, it seems the structures themselves might fall on his head and kill him before any Grineer could, which is ironic and silly at the same time. Still, he seems to have a destination, so he ignores this detail and keeps advancing undeterred.

It would be a very short journey if he just runs, but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, just wanting to take it easy and with calm and peace. No one’s there to hurt him for just wanting to take a slow stroll to admire the scenery, or at least the parts the Grineer haven’t tampered with yet. It’s just him, the scenery and his thoughts right now…

Well, that peace doesn’t last long, as he receives an anonymous call. Sighing, he stops and leans against a metal wall, trying not to get any rust on his armor, and picks it up.

“Greetings? Who is it?”

“I’m glad to to see you made it there safe and sound, Excalibur.”

That deep voice. That formal and collected, almost elegant tone. The way they pronounce each syllable, with strength and authority, just like a leader… Yes, that definitely has to be Oberon.

“I mean, yes, Oberon, of course I made it here unscathed.” Excalibur responds “There isn’t really much that can happen to me when there isn’t any physical opposers to my advance.”

A surprising silence of a few seconds follows. It seems not even Oberon anticipated the outpost being completely abandoned, but he quickly regains composure and replies to this oddity:  
  


“Understood. Maybe this will make your ultimate objective all the easier to take in, will it not?”

“I beg to differ. There are no convenient or accommodating variables that will make this any easier for me.”

“Then why did you go there, Excalibur?”

Excalibur’s hands shudder a bit before he gulps and responds with false confidence:

“I came here to face it, once and for all, and that’s all that matters, at least to me, and as far as I know that should be all that matters to you as well, since you’re the only person I trusted enough to tell the details of this mission.”

“I didn’t know it made you so uncomfortable, Excalibur. My apologies.”

“How could you tell?”

“You couldn’t have made it any more obvious with the tone of your voice.”

It seems it didn’t work, then, but that’s just a minor inconvenience for him compared to what he has to face at the very end of that outpost. Oberon interrupts his thoughts:

“Are you sure you are prepared for this, Excalibur?”

Excalibur sighs and decides to drop the facade, finally speaking in an honest manner.

“No, dammit, of course I am not, I swear I’ve never felt so nervous in my entire existence. Each step I’ve taken since I landed has been its very own battle, and it feels I’ve lost at least half of them, which is why I still haven’t made it to that damned room. I tried to distract myself with the view, but it didn’t work, it just doesn’t stop haunting me.”

“What exactly doesn’t stop haunting you? I thought there were many things that once held you back from going there.”

“You are right, but… Unfortunately, I’m not sure myself. At this point, I can only tell there’s something deep down that’s trying to hold me back, it doesn’t want me there.”

“Is it a physical thing or…?”

“No, dammit, I swear it isn’t.” Excalibur interrupts him before he can finish his thought “I’d say it’s more of a subconscious fear, a frightening thought that just looms around without showing itself, yet still remains strong enough to make me want to vomit.”

“Why are you still there, then?” Oberon questions him in a slightly worried tone.

“I’m not a coward, am I? I needed to face this place sooner or later, even if my body, my mind, my inner psyche are vehemently against the idea.”

“Stay safe, then. I’ll keep monitoring you, or at least as long as these two don’t realize I’m doing this for you.”

“You don’t have to do this much for me.” Excalibur tells him in a tone devoid of any cheerfulness “I can handle everything from here on.”

“I don’t do this only because you are my usual squadmate and my brother-in-arms, Excalibur, but also because I need to make sure you don’t get hurt by your own decision.”

“I thought you would say something along the lines of me being your friend or something similar” Excalibur replies with marginally more positivity. He can’t see it, but Oberon’s expression doesn’t really change from its ever-seriousness, even when he mentions this. He wouldn’t really mind this, but it’s rather strange nonetheless.

“So, will you keep advancing or not?” Oberon asks him. It seems he got stuck in the conversation and inside his thoughts for quite some time, making him ignore or forget what he came there for. At least the question served as a quick reminder, snapping him back into reality as he starts moving forward once again, albeit very slowly and hesitantly.

“Your breathing’s telling me your entire situation.” Oberon mentions, and Excalibur obviously wasn’t aware of this, turning his quick, nervous breaths into long, controlled ones filled with new self-awareness. Rather awkward, perhaps, but Oberon isn't there to look at him, although he can definitely hear him through their call. Nevertheless, audible discomfort is easier to withstand than visible one, or at least for him, for whatever amount of time is left for him to get to wherever he has to go.

A peaceful trek through an upward tunnel that doesn’t seem longer than three hundred feet wouldn’t normally take an entire half-hour ro traverse, but Excalibur sure does want to take all the time in the world, well, this world, and pretty much all other worlds, pacing around trying to find anything to keep himself busy, at least as long as Oberon doesn’t find out. Although he’s not watching him directly, he already proved being capable of hearing his nervousness through the call, and even when he openly tries to control his breath and his thoughts, they could still easily slip out and give away his real status. Even all this struggle ultimately proves to be productive, finally bringing him to his destination after a stroll that should have been way shorter than it turned out to be.

Finally, there he is, he’s finally made his long awaited arrival after so much hesitation. The big, open “room” if it can even be called that anymore, stands with whatever pride it has left after most of what it had inside got sacked away. No guards, no computers, no machines, no surveillance of any sorts, not even a single camera in the entire room, the place is the sole definition of desolate, as it seems its previous occupiers just lost interest. That seems particularly strange, as it means this is the only room in the entire outpost that saw its computers taken away, they didn’t even bother to just wipe away all the data and leave them in place. There don’t seem to be any traces of machines having ever been in the room anyway, no spots on the ground with washed-off paint or less tan from the sun, or with any holes where bolts, screws or nails used to be, so it might just be a hypothesis, an assumption based off the pattern Excalibur has already presenced and walked through. The roof itself looks like there wasn’t even one in the first place, standing as nothing but an open ceiling as all tiles, slabs and chunks of loose metal that once made up the place’s roof have fallen down to the floor underneath or the fast-flowing stream right next to the base. The pieces that don’t seem all that rusty appear to have loose, bent or broken bolts, not being proof of bad craftsmanship per se, but rather the true power of nature over time and everything it touches.

Still, the most fascinating detail about the entire room has managed to remain intact. It looks like there’s a strange, ancient cavity in the wall right in front of him, perfectly carved and preserved, so he’s able to identify the key detail about it: It’s meticulously human-shaped, from the fine, carefully handcrafted measures in size and distance between small body parts and their varying shapes and sizes, down to the most minuscule and unnervingly specific detail and possible nuance in the body shape of whoever or whatever was or is supposed to fit inside. What seems most astonishing about this strange reverse sculpture can be seen when Excalibur takes a step forward and, bringing his arms to the front, he tries to fit himself in, and succeeds with no problems whatsoever. This might indicate a lot of things, but most importantly, this could mean this is where he came from, and he certainly doesn’t seem too surprised by this discovery, if it even is one at all for him. His thoughts seem all fogged by the same thing in his subconscious, a hidden fear that finally takes a step forward and shows itself. It still isn’t clear enough to be easy to define, but his memories are there to make up for the missing details.

Not remembering much about your past before the Helminth started flowing through your veins could be seen as a disadvantage by many of his peers. After all, most of them have been quite functional and competent without the need to remember. Might that not be the case this time, though? Sure, he does well in many of his missions, just like anyone else, but he could never shake off the odd feeling, something troubling him at all times without end, a subtle, tolerable torment that never fades, never abandons his thoughts, lingers endlessly through his mind, even when he has to be quiet, even when he has to focus, even when he has to forget about everything else but the moment he currently inhabits.

He truly cannot escape the feeling, and he can truly not identify it, but what he’s sure of, is that said feeling is what has brought him here. 

Lying to himself and others about a sudden burst of curiosity combined with willpower proved not to be as difficult as he originally thought, and while he was on his way to the outpost inside his orbiter, he really tried his hardest to thaw his other thoughts out of the freeze they were under thanks to that single invading sensation that always took over, but the results he got were subpar at best, and they didn’t last long. As it seems, believing in himself hard enough just won’t be enough this time, and he doesn’t know if he finds that amusing or unbelievable, maybe it’s both at the same time.

Perhaps it won’t even be necessary, though. His mind starts doing all the dirty work for him before he even notices, bringing him into a familiar place inside his head. It’s the exact same place where he’s standing right now, back when it still had a standing roof. It’s not like it was way back in the day, really, it must have been a couple years ago at most when he first awoke in what was a foreign outpost for him back then.

He still remembers it vividly, and the memories are even more intense thanks to the feeling that’s been haunting him all this time. As it seems, both of them are intertwined, connected to each other, executing a coordinated operation to overcome his senses and take him back to an old time with enough strength for it to feel uncannily real. He can even swear he feels the same breeze there was during that day, that damned, cursed day he woke up from his long slumber in front of Captain Vor. Yeah, he can still remember his dry potato face quite well, rotting, with eyes that could have been more comparable to kubrow testicles. Not a particularly rare appearance for a Grineer, but you would normally expect high-ranking officials to look at least marginally better than their subordinates, not only on their uniforms, but also physically. He certainly had quite the ego for someone so ugly when he met him, and the first time they met was quite unique.

This hole in the wall is literally where he woke up, or, well, got awakened inside of. The Lotus was about to give him a quick debriefing of everything he had missed during his slumber, but both of them hadn’t anticipated an entire Grineer platoon guarding the hall, with Vor himself standing in front of him with a strange artifact in his hand. It was that cursed Ascaris, that strange thing that latched onto his calf and sent sharp, painful shockwaves through his entire body, going all the way up to his head. He can still remember the sensation quite well, his heart skipped a long beat, his vision got blurry for an instant, and his mind blacked out. When he recovered, all his eyes could see was pure white, with a throbbing head and a million questions he couldn’t even ask as he feel a lump in his throat. Something odd, an external force held back all his words, that Ascaris thing tried to gain control not only over his body, but also over his senses and even his actions, but at the end, he didn’t admit it, as he ultimately killed everyone in the hall except Vor and fled from there on the first functioning orbiter he managed to find. All that’s happened ever since has been nothing but roaring victory after roaring victory for him, he’s done wonders in all his missions, he’s brought countless successes to the Lotus, and he’s become nothing short of a renowned hero… But there’s a big issue.

Despite all of his victories, all this progress, all he’s contributed to the cause and his brethren with the hopes of saving what’s left of humanity from tyranny, both from the Grineer’s imperialistic intent and Corpus’ evergrowing greed, he’s never felt like he accomplished anything. It sounds silly at first, but he’s felt absent at anything he’s done and everywhere he’s been, as if someone else inside his being was doing all these things for him, or rather instead of him. He’s never felt like he’s been in control of his own self for the past year or so, ever since… Ever since Vor put that Ascaris thing on his leg. That’s when the feeling of absence, the lack of accomplishment, the emptiness, all of it invaded him, it all makes sense for him now.

“With this artifact, you will slowly lose control of yourself, and you will become ours. The Queens will be pleased with my success, and we will be able to obtain our most powerful weapon to date: You, Excalibur, and you won’t be able to resist this time.”

That damn voice echoing inside his head, he once hoped he wouldn’t have to remember it ever again, but right now he seems to have no choice in the matter. The negator did its thing back then, it freed him from the Ascaris’ effects and gave him back full control over his senses, or at least that’s what he thought. Was it all a lie? Was the feeling of control he obtained when he took that thing off his leg nothing but a cheap placebo from his damaged, puppeted, malfunctioning brain? Who was he? Who _is_ he? _What_ is he anymore, then? Can he still call himself Excalibur without feeling like a liar, little more than a pretender whose whole play is one of a hero who claims to be someone when an entirely different thing or being is the one controlling all his actions?

“What am I?” He asks himself, staring at his empty hands, but it feels like he’s rather looking through them. He never gave all these things this much thought, not until he came here. What is Excalibur?

The tale of King Arthur, as the archives call it. It’s not a story he reads too often, he’s not that much of a reader, unlike Oberon, who cannot live without spending his free time on literature. He’s never going to get how he finds the art so fascinating that he commits so much time he could instead put into training or side missions.

A sacred sword, if his memory is even remotely more reliable than the rest of himself. He’s named after a legendary blade, wielded by a king of mythos, and the story has endured the hardships of time through all the centuries, perhaps even millennia. He always wonders from time to time, whenever his mind doesn’t betray him, if he and all his comrades, brethren-in-arms, were made to live up to their names and their legends, with the paths before them already carved out based on what they were made for.

His memories keep flowing like a constant stream through his mind, always tightly related to his current thoughts, until it stops in a particular conversation he had a while ago. It happened a couple months ago, when he was taking his orbiter back to Fortuna after a long week of nonstop missions. Corpus was feeling particularly adventurous that week and wanted to expand their reach, so he decided they wouldn’t mind too much if he just got into their business, paid them a little visit and reminded them who’s in charge around their little neighborhood. Unfortunately, the operation dragged out for an entire week of missions and more missions all over Venus, gunning down patrols and powering down outposts left and right. 

At that point, however, it was all over, and he was going back to base to get a good amount of rest, but he received a call mid-flight he just couldn’t ignore. He picked up the call, giving the most polite greeting he could come up with:

“Greetings, who is it that I have the pleasure to talk with?”

“Excalibur? Are you seriously trying to sound like Oberon right now?”

Well, that voice and that mean-spirited tone definitely belonged to Valkyr. At least she sounded a tad cheerful, so the call promised not to be another scolding session from her.

“Hi, Valkyr.” He responded “And no, I’m not trying to imitate him, I’m just being polite.”

“More like cringy, but I’ll give it a pass. Are you coming back to the base today?”

“Well, yes, of course, this long week of endless raids and infiltrations is finally over.”

“I’m glad to hear that, especially because I won’t have to clean your kubrow’s mess anymore. Seriously, did you ever train him not to grab my equipment or my rare collectibles and leave them all over my ship?” She asked, with a more berating tone. He was pretty sure his kubrow was very well-trained. So well-trained, in fact, that he also taught him exactly that, to grab Valkyr’s stuff and leave them all over the place just to spite her. Her reaction was always funny to him when she couldn’t find something as precious to her as a little kavat tooth she put inside a flask, she would panic whenever it went out of her sight. He never really understood why it mattered so much to her, and-

“Excalibur, are you listening to me?” She asked again with frustration, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Agh, yes, yes, I’m listening!” He replied with surprise, startled by Valkyr’s sudden shift in mood. “What is it, why are you like this?”

Her tone changed once again, this time filled with concern “I’m quite worried about you. These last few weeks, I’ve been able to notice you’ve been and acted quite distant, always spaced out, lost inside your thoughts, paying the bare minimum of attention to anything we say. Hell, sometimes it feels like you’re not there at all, as if someone else took your place instead!”

Such a realization didn’t surprise at the time, he was well aware of just how empty he felt sometimes back then.

“Well, I… You’re right, something _is_ wrong, but I don’t know how to explain it, because…”

His hesitation only raised her suspicion even further, prompting a key pry from her, the question that tied it all up together:

“Did something happen down there? You’ve been pretty absent, but never to this extent…”

This brings him back to the present for a brief instant as his thoughts started shuffling through his mind once again. He goes back to thinking about those seven long days of nonstop action, there was something else about that time period, something dark, sinister, something he never wanted to remember and just preferred to keep hidden deep inside his mind vaults for the rest of eternity, but it seems he has to let it resurface now, regardless of how disturbing it might be.

His thoughts take him back to that crucial, long week fighting against Corpus. Those were truly the most exhausting seven days he had dealt with up to that point, both physically and especially mentally. He was used to fatigue, even to greater extents, so the physical tiredness didn’t last. However, the same could not be said about the mental impact, which lasted way longer, and more importantly, showed him the deep, hidden, true side of himself.

He had his suspicions previous to such a reveal, as he could recall many times during these missions when he had to engage in long, tiresome gunfights with little progress being made, where he started feeling dizzy and absent-minded after enough time had passed. It would usually vary between 10 minutes up to an hour of constant shooting and fighting, until his mind started getting hazy and his body began losing most, if not all sensation. From that point on, all his actions seemed to be automatic, out of sheer survival instinct, he wouldn’t even have to make himself react to an exposed enemy to fire at them, the process was just automatic when he entered this weird trance, and he was fine with it, he thought it wouldn’t be too harmful and quite useful in specific scenarios requiring top performance from him, but when he caught an unfortunate Corpus soldier running away from him one tragic night after he had shut down a small Moa walker factory, The guy looked like a rookie, someone who didn’t know what he was getting himself into until he had to presence it and see it with his very own eyes. The poor, damned soul eventually tripped over a rock under the snow and couldn’t do anything besides crawl backwards, trying all he could to escape for his dear life.

Excalibur was a bare few feet from him, skana drawn and sharpened, ready for anything the cowering engineer might’ve had planned, but it seems the little guy was either too scared or wise enough not to try something stupid that could’ve gotten him killed way faster. The frame wasn’t even planning to do anything to him, though, as he was amused enough with the humiliating display and just wanted this to be a little lesson before letting him run away and find proper refuge until he was rescued. He was going to raise his hands to his head and boo him away, a little innocent spook to end the night on a high note, but as soon as he made eye contact with the engineer, his vision turned blurry, his head felt so empty all of a sudden, and before he could even realize, he had spaced out and lost all touch, feeling and sensation in his entire body. There wasn’t a single part of him that he could still control anymore, and eventually, he lost his grasp on time as well as his vision went pitch black, rendering him blind. The next few seconds felt like a torturous eternity, he couldn’t see, hear or feel a thing, but he was damn sure he was still moving against his own will somehow. There was definitely something else there, doing the job for him and against his will, and when he regained control over his senses, his shock was immeasurable.

The poor engineer’s biggest fear had come true in the most brutal fashion. The clean, cold, delicate coat of white covering the soil under their feet was now bathed in living red, deep crimson painting a macabre scenery. A clipped ear a feet or two away was just the mere prelude to this spectacle, starring a ravaged pile of flesh and broken bones almost reduced to ivory dust, already losing their living colour to the cold and the profuse blood loss from what was no longer just cuts and wounds, but entire openings and chopped pieces of human parts that seem to have flown all over the place. Whatever happened to this poor guy must have been horrifying, as it seems all that happened to his limbs was nothing compared to the fate his torso had to meet. At that point it was totally unrecognizable, because if the other limbs were nothing but battered flesh now, the core of his body and all its contents were an even more vomitive frame for horror. The heart was just a heap of dead, decaying tissue, and the lungs that once brought oxygen and sustenance to his being were little more than two little mounds of pink, dripping jam inhabiting his lower torso. His stomach literally dropped, burst open and spilled bloody bile all over the insides of the open abdomen, further accelerating the decomposing of what could barely qualify as muscle. The liver seemed to have been used as a fleshy punching bag, reduced down to nothing but a dark purple pile of mush hanging from whatever tissue was left to keep it in place, and if he ever had any other organs besides those, they were now all over the place in places where they definitely shouldn’t be.

The head was the crown jewel to this bloody mess. Imagine getting your eyes squeezed hard enough into your skull that they just break and fill your inner head with blood and tears, and now imagine just that being done by someone with superhuman strength, then you’re in for a treat. The head was split open, oozing blood like a gory fountain, and the brain, the damn brain, it had been turned into little more than a bunch of fleshy noodles tangled together to any remote sort of resemblance to its original appearance. Not that it mattered anyway, as it fell into the snow as soon as the weight on the cracked skull shifted, turning it downwards and spilling its solid contents right on the spot between where the legs used to be. 

It was overall, a master butcher’s work, if such a messy craft was passable as such without making the spectator throw up in shock and disgust. Somehow, Excalibur managed to keep the bile inside his stomach upon that sight, but more than anything, he was speechless, at a loss of words and wondering how the hell that just happened. He looked around himself, he was still completely alone and there was nothing in sight that could’ve committed such atrocity, except for…

It took him a long, shaky sigh followed by a gulp to lower his gaze and stare at his hands, consumed by horror and sorrow upon the sight that met him. His long digits, worthy of a true master of the sword, were still drenched in liquid crimson, slowly dripping down his palms and trickling into the snow. Small chunks and pieces of human organs were also coating his palms, releasing the repulsive, but familiar metallic stench of fresh death and gore hitting that him with full strength. He would’ve felt dizzy or nauseated if this wasn’t part of his job. He just couldn’t accept he would do something like this…

At least that’s what he thought back then, but now it’s all clear to him. That engineer was victim to whatever took control over his actions, giving the young man a violent, brutal sendoff, and he was brought back to his senses to presence the end result.

That’s how it all started, he remembers it all now. Ever since then, he doesn’t say much about the matter to others, he would rather leave it behind in the past for as long as he can, and now, he will have to confront it, the place where it all started, including the loss of control over his own self. There is no turning back, there can’t be, he has to face his horror once and for all, or else he’ll never find peace.

“Oberon, are you still there?” He asks, opening the call once again.

“Yes, Excalibur, is there something you wanted to say?”

“I was just going to warn you I’m going to end the call right here and now. I need to do this completely alone from here on. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t even going to worry, you should be able to take care of yourself just fine, especially because there doesn’t seem to be anything in there that could harm you, if I follow what you’ve told me so far.”

“Yeah, as both of us have said, this place is pretty damn lonely, so at the very least I can appreciate the peaceful silence.”

“Just make sure not to trip over anything, that would be a very stupid way to get injured.” Oberon recommends before closing his end of the call. Static follows, and then Excalibur finishes the call and puts his attention back into the current place where he’s standing just as quiet, it seems this place won’t meet any disturbances anytime soon, but as soon as he turns around to face the hole in the wall once again…

“Just two years, my comrade sacred sword, and you already have a haunting past pursuing you…”

That voice, that damn voice, with its deep, commanding tone, its air of authority, its hints of wisdom, charisma by the knowledge and confidence, that attitude filled with age and subtle superiority, it’s all too familiar to him, and even worse, it’s a particular voice he hoped he would never have to hear again, and yet there it is.

“I was hoping to never hear from you again.” He replies to the voice with an audible drop in his mood.

“Is that so?” The voice asks him with slight rhetoric “I thought you would be glad, rejoicing upon hearing me, swooning just from listening to my words like you did back then.”

“I’m not that manchild anymore, that was back when I had just woken up and I was still adapting to everything that had changed around me. Now that I can see everything more clearly, I don’t have to and won’t trust anything you have to tell me.”

This is truly a sudden rush of confidence for him, but he isn’t sure for how long he’ll be able to maintain it, especially when when he finally starts considering who he’s talking with with more seriousness. Nevertheless, he still has more to add:

“So, I would like you to explain yourself, tell me why you are here…”

And after taking a deep breath, he finally delivers the last part of his sentence with boldness and strength backing it up:

“... Umbra.”


	11. X: The Choices of the Sacred Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected and partly undesired encounter with Umbra puts Excalibur's view of the Lotus into question, and after a couple of unfortunate mistakes, leaves his own life at risk and at the twilight frame's mercy.

“How nice of you it is to recognize me, Excalibur. I thought you wouldn’t be able to remember me after such a long time. Aren’t you just such a thoughtful fellow?”

Excalibur can’t believe it, standing right in place in utter shock. He’s just right in front of him, Excalibur Umbra, in a very nonchalant manner and eyeing him up and down with eerie calm. It definitely isn’t exactly what he expected, if he even was expecting anything like this in the first place. He doesn’t even know what to say at the moment, and many thoughts bombarding his already cluttered mind at once doesn’t really help the matter for him either. He’s pretty much been caught with his guard down, at his most vulnerable point, just when he thought he would be completely alone to face his demons, and yet it seems he has one more to confront now.

“As you might be assuming, I definitely wasn’t expecting you to be here, Umbra.” Excalibur tells him, trying not to get overcome by his looming worry. He’s used to the feeling by now, one more problem ruling his mind isn’t going to be that much different from the usual, or at least that’s what he hopes.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Umbra responds calmly, but with an air of mystery that still feels rather suspicious “I knew you would be surprised upon seeing me, literally anybody would have reacted the same way had they been in your same position.”

“Why are you even here, what is your damn purpose, what brought you here to begin with? Was it me?” Excalibur asks in response, each question showing more displeasure than the previous. Umbra shakes his head and slowly, very patiently walks towards him, taking a half-eternity with each step. His movement, his mannerisms, the way he crosses an arm over his chest while the other holds his tilted head as he looks at Excalibur with curiosity, all these actions with a certain sass, it’s just as he remembered him, and just how much he hated it back in the day, and he still can’t stand it now. He’s so tempted to do something about it, his hand sits bracing his neck, carefully placed near his sword’s handle, but without real provocation he couldn’t dare do such a sudden, spiteful move.

“Hmm, yes, that is a great, amazing, wonderful and very thoughtful question!” Umbra responds with strange cheerfulness, almost in a mocking manner “You might already know I’m not particularly someone who just follows people around without a good reason. I’m no stalker, despite what my job might indicate, so wouldn’t you first think I have a way to justify me being here?”

“If you have one, you haven’t told it to me yet, I still have all the right in this and all the other worlds to question you.”

Umbra shakes his head, but still doesn’t let go of the sassy mannerisms. At least Excalibur can trust he won’t just suddenly attack him without any explanation, that would be quite out-of-character from him. As a man of honour himself, he won’t attempt any offensive against him either, he can only act out of provocation, that is if he doesn’t lose control of his own self right at this moment.

“I came here, followed you, out of sheer curiosity, my fellow Excalibur. After all, why wouldn’t I try to accompany who shares a name with yours truly, to the place which I know was your place of origin, the spot where it all began for the mighty, heroic Excalibur, owner of the name of that legendary sacred sword from the tales of old?”

If he didn’t know him already, he would’ve rolled his eyes a dozen times through that monologue, but he already knows this particular veteran has a tendency to act with certain eccentricity whenever he feels like it. At the very least he has the merit, the renown, the accomplishments to back up his attitude, that is something even he can acknowledge.

“So, if I understand what you’re trying to say under all that glitter, you came here because you’re obsessed with me?”

“No, no, or course not,” Umbra replies, breaking out of character for a moment just to clarify “I just came here to meet an old friend once again, that old friend being you, of course.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily consider myself a friend of yours, and I wouldn’t stretch the definitions either if I were you.”

“Threatening me, are you now? How brave, bold, valiant of you, you have become an entirely different person, all those missions, all those accomplishments have toughened you up, good job.” Umbra says, not really praising him, but rather teasing him, sounding mildly irritated, trying to get under his skin by giving him shallow congratulations without taking his gaze off that hand closest to his blade.

“Well, maybe, maybe not, I’m sure it would be preferable for both of us that you don’t test it out.”

“Both of us? Do you really, down to your very heart, think I am even remotely afraid of you? Or is it actually that you know you couldn’t possibly win this encounter if it started?”

“There’s only one way we could both find that out, and it would be wiser for you not to move a single digit towards that fancy blade of yours.”

“Oh, you mean my beautiful, breathtaking, gorgeous Skiajati? Who would’ve thought? You actually remembered!” Umbra tells him in the most sarcastic way he has managed yet.

How could he have forgotten just how much he actually values his special Nikana? That’s one of the things he couldn’t stop reminding him over and over back in the day, when they were still master and apprentice, despite just how mysterious he was back then. He didn’t speak much to many people outside of the organization, he didn’t give much of an impression, he just hung around with his typical mannerisms, not really acting like much of a crowd person. Instead, he always talked to his select few: Oberon, Ivara and, of course, Excalibur. If he happened to be conversing with someone else, it would be about the most barren or mundane things he could muster or even endure, just to get through the talk and go back to his own shady business. Shadiness and all, though, those three definitely knew what he was up to.

Time and time again, he spoke about wanting to give them a warning, needing to get into the wilderness, the deserts of Mercury, the inhospitable snowlands of Venus, the toxic jungles of Earth, or the ominous depths of ancient, abandoned Orokin ruins. They would be able to pick one of many crumbling facilities, not even in the same pristine conditions most Corrupted installations they had visited, to have their fateful, so essential meeting. They were always just caves, perishing walls of ancient glory covered by the darkness of light sources long extinguished, with the proposed meeting halls being some of the darkest, most haunting places anyone could possibly imagine. Perhaps this was one of the main reasons why they always postponed it, leaving a hopeful Umbra hanging all the time, who despite all these refusals and shortcomings, never seemed to lose hope, or he just couldn’t break his facade in order not to lose them. However, that was not it for all the reasons Excalibur and the other two never agreed to give Umbra a chance.

There was also the suspicion, it was just way too damn much for them to set aside. It was very clear, whenever Lotus’ voice would resonate in one of their video calls, that Umbra’s demeanor would slightly, but drastically enough change to something odd, more static, less classy and without the typical flair and flashiness of his more exaggerated gestures. It was more grounded, serious, down-to-earth and mild than his usual self, either out of respect or something else. Of course, Excalibur, lacking that much sense of awareness, couldn’t notice it on his own back then, but Ivara was perceptive and generous enough to point it out to both him and Oberon once their strange conversations with the twilight-bathed frame were finished. The following days would see him back to his usual routine, whenever he wasn’t making himself busy with a mission or two. He was quite independent from the Lotus despite aligning with her, not really ever following direct orders from her, and not even saying much about his tasks to the other frames around him, not even those he spoke the most with. They never really suspected anything at the time, they had nothing to hide or anything mysterious to unearth or uncover, it was just usual business, maybe so mundane that it wasn’t even worth talking about… And yet, there was still that huge, lingering issue that always gave them that feeling of unease.

They definitely knew they were missing out on something massive, one big revelation that would change everything if it was shown to them. They never went ahead and took the step forward, they never responded to his multiple requests for that crucial, increasingly more and more urgent and desperate meeting, and perhaps that’s the main reason why it all went down like it did that rushing, sudden day.

It happened about nine to ten months ago, in a day that would’ve seemed pretty uneventful otherwise. Somehow, one of their typical conversations with Umbra had turned significantly heated, to the point of him completely abandoning his fancy persona and yelling out all his upset, tired of being ignored after months of desperately wanting to give them that damn warning. What he couldn’t stop repeating during that outburst, though, was just how aware they would need to be from then on about “Their little beloved space mother Lotus”, as he called her. He couldn’t get into details, appearing more startled than ever before upon hearing Lotus’ greetings to Oberon through their shared signal, and walking away at an abnormally fast pace without even looking back. None of them tried to chase him or go after him when it happened, perhaps they should have at least tried, because that was the last time they ever saw him. Once Oberon was finished with his call and they all walked back into the main street, Umbra and his orbiter were nowhere to be seen, and tracking him down wasn’t an option either, he never installed one of those tracking devices Lotus put in all the other frames’ ships, so he effectively ghosted out of everyone’s radars, to be seen never again, up until that point, of course.

“So here it is, your oh so anticipated meeting, that which you could never stop bothering us with, over and over again for all those months, are you satisfied?”

If Umbra’s attitude didn’t seem odd enough up to that point, that question definitely seems to be the breaking point for him, subtly moving his hand closer to his treasured Skiajati. This would’ve gone unnoticed in former times, but having been taught by him definitely bears its fruit, allowing Excalibur to catch this with his gaze and respond with his own threat to draw his skana at any sudden move his former tutor might try to pull off. The more experienced frame circles Excalibur, who remains static, fixed in his current position, his hand just a little breeze away from grabbing quick hold of that mighty weapon and taking the initiative. If only Umbra wasn’t doing that already, slowly, methodically, cautiously unsheathing his Skiajata inch by inch with not even a glimpse of hurry on him. Despite this, Excalibur doesn’t show any hesitation, holding a tight grip on his weapon’s hilt and drawing it from behind his back, just in time for Umbra to finish his slow unsheathing process and finally reveal the blade in all its full, pristine, deadly glory. One step forward from him seems like a big enough warning sign for Excalibur to prepare for a parry, but instead something strange starts happening.

With the flat side and the tip of his blade, he slowly and very delicately grazes over Excalibur's armor, he just keeps circling around him in silence, a wiser predator patiently waiting for its helpless prey to lower its guard and allow him to land one single, clean strike to stop the little games, as the fun can’t go on forever even despite how much he might be wishing it could. What isn’t clear, however, is if Excalibur’s really as helpless as Umbra assumes, maybe just enduring the oddity of the metal grazing the surface of his armor without any real opposition from him. After all, there’s very little he can do, unless what he actually wants is a chopped off limb or a punctured lung just because of the wrong move.

“Do you think I like playing little games, Excalibur?” Umbra asks, with both audible and visible frustration “Do you think I wasted months upon months of my time, putting my own safety at risk, just for you to approach me with all your ingratitude, not even willing to listen to what your superior has to say?”

There it is again, those words that feel so eerily similar to what he’s already heard from him a million times. How could he possibly just accept such things spoken about the Lotus? Ivara chose to just push it out of her mind and never think about it again, and while Oberon tried to give it some thought, at least give it an opportunity because those were Umbra’s words, at the very least they deserved a chance, he ultimately gave up and forgot about it completely, unable to just fathom the possibility of their Lotus ever doing anything even remotely suspicious or questionable behind their backs. There is just no way Excalibur could think about it seriously, leave alone even consider the remote likelihood of it turning out to be true in one degree or another.

“And do you seriously, with all your expertise, your veterancy and wisdom, think we were just going to believe you and go along with whatever you had proposed? Do you really, with all the rationality you can muster out of that old mind, cannot consider even for a single second that this just sounds outlandish and absolutely unbelievable to us?”

“I trusted you, the three of you!” Umbra yells, letting his temper take the best of him and abandoning his act of class and elegance, seeming to have been nothing but an expertly crafted facade to hide his true intentions “I placed all the faith I had to get this information out there on you three, and you just turned a deaf ear to my pleas time and time again, like I wasn’t worth your time, not even once!”

Clearly losing his temper, Umbra’s movements with his sword stop being subtle and delicate, turning truly menacing as the sharp blade suddenly presses against Excalibur’s neck. Having expected something like this, he quickly parries it away with a swift twirl of his skana, proving he’s not going to submit that easily, regardless of Umbra’s status or how intimidating he might be trying to be.

“Trust? Did you really think there was trust between us, considering just how quiet you were with everybody else? Come on, you’ve just revealed your true colors, the fancy, classy Umbra we thought we knew was nothing but your cheap lie to make anyone up there in Fortuna not turn their heads towards your more obscure antics!”

“Enough!” Umbra snaps, finally lowering Skiajata from its position near Excalibur’s neck, now in a safe position closer to its sheath. Finally feeling unthreatened, Excalibur returns the favor, withdrawing his skana from the front and bringing it to his side. This seems to make the veteran frame ease up a little, storing his weapon back in place before taking a deep breath and looking at Excalibur directly to the face.

“All I want from you, Excalibur, is your attention, just that, nothing more. This is extremely important, I beg you, you need to hear what I have to tell you, and then tell the other two.”

“I will give you this one chance, but just this time, and I can’t promise I will take any nonsense you might spew out seriously. Be quick, be brief, be rational, and most importantly, don’t waste my time.”

“How dare y-!” Umbra stops himself just short from scolding him again. It would not be wise to squander the little favor he’s worked his ass off to earn. He forces himself to swallow his pride, take another deep breath, and give him a more tempered response.

“Fine, fine. Just… Listen, very, very carefully. Your leader, your director, your “empress”, your oh so beloved little space mother, your precious flower, the Lotus… She’s not someone you can fully trust, and the reason is-”

In a sudden move that surprises both of them, Excalibur attacks swiftly and tries to land a clean strike on Umbra’s neck, but of course, due to the veteran’s superior physical prowess, this maneuver is quickly deflected by a short parry with Skiajati, a weapon that proves to be trustworthy even at the most sudden of deceptions. Excalibur’s quite startled, panicking a million different ways inside his mind. He lost control of himself once again, and that mysterious force controlling him made him pull the stupidest move he could’ve possibly managed at that moment, and consequences are most certainly inbound.

Before he can even finish processing what just happened, Umbra flails his own sword against him at the blink of an eye, landing a clean shot right on his chest that would’ve been devastating if his shields hadn’t gotten in the way. Regardless of that, Excalibur’s pretty much screwed now, having made such a catastrophic mistake has sealed his fate and shattered whatever amount of trust Umbra had left for him. The tables have turned, Excalibur’s the traitor now, even if he acted against his own will, and he’s going to pay an extremely high price..

WIth reignited fury, Umbra pulls back his Skiajata before unleashing a short, but fast series of strikes and slashes, most of them blocked and parried by Excalibur’s finesse, and those that go past his defense narrowly miss. Despite this, the pressure still proves to be a little too overwhelming, forcing the defending frame to take more and more steps backwards as the relentless flurry rages on. He’s slowly, but steadily being backed up against the wall, running out of free space to move and maneuver, so he takes a huge gamble, lowering his skana and swiftly sidestepping to the left, immediately gaining a more advantageous position to protect himself. Nevertheless, even after giving himself more room to breathe, Umbra doesn’t hesitate to change the direction of his barrage, steadily taking short steps from side to side and subtly reducing the distance between himself and his opponent. Serving as a testament of his expertise, this effort goes unnoticed by Excalibur, who starts running out of options once again, forced to draw the Exalted Blade on his other hand to counteract with some pressure of his own. This proves successful enough to let him take two steps back, turn around and leap backwards to regain some composure, putting the Exalted Blade back in place after it has served its purpose.

“In dire need of your special tools and trinkets to match up to me?” Umbra taunts him “How bloody ironic is it that you now are the one falling back after trying to land such a cheap shot?!”

He has it very clear, there is no way he will be able to explain himself right now, moving from side to side without breaking his stance, constantly staring at Umbra as he just stands there, about to speak out his wrath once again:   
  


“I trusted you, I was about to give you information that would put my life at risk if  _ she _ found out! Don’t you understand just how important this is to me, to all of us?! You shouldn’t trust the Lotus as blindly as you are!”

“Right now, you’re telling me to do just that, to trust you blindly with whatever you have to tell me!”

“It’s useless anyway, you have revealed your true colors now, I now know you only intend to harm me, and good luck with that!”

As soon as he finishes these sentences, he gets to Excalibur’s position with just a short sequence of three jumps over piles of debris that ultimately give him air time enough to lunge forward, aiming for Excalibur’s right shoulder. The attack seems quite telegraphed, though, as all Excalibur has to do is step aside, not even putting that much distance between the two of them, and slash horizontally at Umbra’s exposed midriff. The thin barrier of shields stops the attack from dealing any harm, even transferring some backwards momentum into the blade and pushing it away as Umbra lands on his feet, quickly regaining his stance. The veteran frame wastes zero time, rushing into an offensive just a brief few seconds later, with even greater vigor than before. Excalibur, knowing he won’t be able to parry all his attacks forever, seems about to pull the Exalted Blade trick once again, but that damn thing taking control of his mind couldn’t have chosen a worse time to do it.

What starts as a move to use his special ability unwillingly turns into a feint to the side, followed by an attempt at a downward slash directed at Umbra’s exposed side. Unfortunately for him, it only goes as far as that, a simple attempt, as Umbra just has to turn aside and copy his little twirling trick to change the attack’s direction away from him. That’s not even close to being it, as Umbra has left him completely open, and he quickly seizes this chance by sinking Skiajata deep into the left side of his abdomen with a quick but strong lunge forward. This would’ve been a devastating, game-changing and decisive move under any other set of circumstances, but Warframes aren’t known for being that flimsy, most certainly renowned not only for their speed and finesse, but also for their resilience, easily able to take exponentially greater pain than even the most battle-hardened human would faint to, and Excalibur isn’t the exception at all. The pain is there, sure, but despite just how insufferable it may be, it’s still a matter of survival, he’s going to have plenty of time to whimper and recoil in pain once he’s out of this predicament. That is, of course, if he makes it out alive, as Umbra quickly withdraws the blade from the newly-formed wound, just as Excalibur starts preparing a counter-offensive. Fully aware of this, Umbra repositions his blade right above him, right in time to deflect Excalibur’s second downward attack without much of an effort.

Excalibur, or whatever’s taken control over his body, seems to be running out of options already, choosing to pull dirtier tricks from his sleeve, but there’s no ankle kicking, leg sweeping, cheap shotting or attempts at low blows that will be able to stop Umbra as he’s now fired up, flailing his sword about, scanning for an opening in his opponent’s defenses, until he finds one in the most crucial place.

An even greater surge of resolve flows through Umbra’s veins, as he pulls Skiajata back, leaving himself open for a clean shot from Excalibur if he’s fast enough, and the frame proves his senses to be sharp enough to do just that. Trying to exploit this short-lived weakness, he quickly spins, parrying away Umbra’s telegraphed slash, takes a step back and, repositioning his skana pointing down, he attempts a lightning-fast and powerful strike that would be decisive if it lands, but it doesn’t. As it seems, Umbra’s open stance and slow attack was nothing but a bluff to lure him into a disadvantageous position, and he clearly succeeded. Ready to cherish the fruit of his tactic, the veteran frame readjusts his grip on his blade and lunges forward, initially seeming to aim towards Excalibur’s left shoulder. However, in a quick shift of speed and direction, the attack ends abruptly, as soon as the blade pierces right through the palm of Excalibur’s left hand. 

The duel stops for a moment, as blood doesn’t take long to start oozing out of the wound, travelling down the shiny, immaculate surface of Skiajata and spoiling its pristine greatness with a new coat of thick red tainting the once reflective blade. A sharp rush of pain overcomes Excalibur’s body, as Umbra doesn’t end it there, twisting the blade and slowly pushing the frame’s trapped hand closer and closer to the floor. The touch of soft, growing vegetation would be a pleasant sensation in most scenarios, but most definitely not when it’s directly at a fresh, open wound pinned against the ground by a razor-sharp blade. This generates further discomfort for Excalibur, who squirms about, trying to escape Skiajata’s hold even if that means he will have to injure his hand even further. This effort, however, proves futile, forcing him to switch his approach, pulling his skana forward once more to strike Umbra off him. The twilight frame, undeterred by this, just sinks his sword deeper into the ground, adding a slight twist to worsen the damage on the stigmatized hand, and with his own free hand, he swats Excalibur’s skana off his grasp, sending it flying a few, agonizingly close couple feet that feel like miles for the pinned frame, a short distance he could’ve reached under less desperate circumstances.

“How does it feel to be completely disarmed now?” Umbra asks him with resentment “I need to give you credit where it’s due, you managed to stay unhinged for way longer than I expected, using that glorified toothpick of yours, because you were either stubborn or idiotic enough to never upgrade it or change it for something better.”

“W-well, it’s always served me well, and it’s been quite the trustworthy tool for me-agh!”

Umbra interrupts him by moving Skiajata a tad to the left, dragging Excalibur’s impaled hand along the way and leaving a noticeable trail of blood right behind. Excalibur pulls up his free arm, trying to wrestle his way out, but this attempt is cut short by Umbra stomping his right wrist back against the ground, effectively immobilizing him. Umbra still looks highly tense, adrenaline pumping out into his rapidly-flowing bloodstream, but at least he’s not pushing the blade anywhere else anymore, that might be it for Excalibur’s increasing suffering.

Umbra takes one long, shaky breath, not moving from his new position, but easing up on his grip on Skiajata and slightly lowering the pressure on Excalibur’s wrist. He might be at the brink of committing an act of insanity, but at least he’s managed to make himself calm and collected enough to speak without letting his emotions take the best of him:

“Stop moving already and listen, listen here!” He yells at a wriggling Excalibur, who doesn’t stop doing just that until Umbra twists his sword again to send another wave of sharp pain through his body and finally makes him comply, which he succeeds at. Already far more comfortable with the new circumstances, Umbra even allows himself something as fancy for this moment as clearing his throat before starting to speak once again:

“Look, I don’t give a bloody damn anymore, if you’re going to believe me or not, that’s your decision, but you will listen to me! Your leader, your matron, your oh so noble, beloved Lotus, I understand the fact that you all see her as a mother figure, I understand all the things she’s done for you and your comrades, I understand just how much, how bloody damn much you people love her, and that’s why you need to listen to what I have to say!”

Although the pain is definitely turning more and more unbearable as time goes on, Excalibur considers more wise to just lie down, and let Umbra speak his mind until he hopefully forgets about his murderous intent and he finds himself clear of any danger, posing a threat to him would be unwise when under such a compromising situation.

“Your space mother, your Lotus, Excalibur, she’s not who you think she is! Back in… sometime, I’m still not sure, my head throbs whenever I try to think about it, she wasn’t this lovely lady with the soothing voice, she was a Sentient, a bloody damn Sentient of all things!”

If Excalibur was speechless previous to this revelation, now his silence might even reach an impossible, negative volume, but Umbra isn’t done yet.

“N-Natah, I think it was her name? A Sentient who held great power, she accompanied an Orokin called Ballas! T-together, they betrayed the Orokin, and went to achieve a grand victory and caused the Orokin empire’s fall during the Old War!”

That seems rather strange for Excalibur, it obviously doesn’t ring any bells on his sealed past memory, and none of those names apart from Orokin and Sentient sound even remotely familiar for him at all. But there is an even larger issue…

“So?” He questions before Umbra can continue “How is this something that should worry me at all? That only makes her look even better, like someone that chose us, her children, over the lust for power and perfection of the ancient Orokin-!”

“She’s a Sentient, Excalibur, she’s little more than a glorified machine disguised as a woman!” Umbra replies with greater conflict in his voice “Your Lotus, or should I say, Natah, isn’t much different from the other Sentients or even Hunhow!”

“Don’t you dare insult her by comparing her to that thing-!”

“And most importantly, Natah’s a machine, but you also have to keep a very important thing in mind, Excalibur: There is no machine, not even a single one, not even the most perfected, masterfully crafted of them all, without at least one flaw!”

“Where are you trying to get with this?” Excalibur asks, getting increasingly worried, and Umbra seems quite pleased upon this reaction, letting a faint cheerfulness slip through his berating tone.

“There’s a flaw in her programming, Excalibur, one that would literally get us all killed if exploited by any of our enemies that happens to be knowledgeable about it, that is if the breach doesn’t happen on its own, then someone will  _ make  _ it happen.”

Excalibur can’t believe it. Yes, of course, he’s taking a damn load of information that couldn’t sound any more outlandish right now, but this easily stands out. The Lotus, whose apparent real name seems to be Natah, has a “flaw” in her programming, which also happens to be one that could kill all of them if it was used by one of their many enemies. At first, he thinks he doesn’t really have anything to worry about, if that’s the case. It’s the Lotus, who else could possibly know about such an obscure detail about her? Alad V couldn’t, Tyl Regor couldn’t, and the Grineer Queens most certainly could not either. Even if somebody knew, they would have to find her, and not even the Tenno themselves knew where she was.

“And what is this ‘flaw’?” Excalibur asks with well founded doubt. Umbra notices this, letting out another sigh, but his determination to tell him everything doesn’t seem deterred at all.

“Back in the days of the Old War, she was programmed to kill us all, the Tenno, once her comrades had done their job, that job being defeating the Orokin empire, of course. Once this happened, though, she defied the orders that were given, written into her by Hunhow, with a little bit of Orokin help, of course, and decided to mother you all.”

“But that means she was able to overcome it, her own willpower let her defeat those orders and-”

“She needed Orokin help for that, Excalibur, and there aren’t really many of those around anymore, let alone any that could help her combat it if it became active again. You guys are placing your trust, your servitude and your loyalty on your secret poison, the being that will kill you all upon being awakened from her slumber, and that’s what I wanted you guys to know. You need to watch your backs, be aware, and never take your sight away from her, if you don’t want to be caught off guard when it finally happens.”

That seems to be it, or at least for now, as Umbra drastically eases up, relaxing his shoulders and releasing most of the pressure he was putting on Excalibur’s wrist with his foot. This gives Excalibur the confidence and the proper moment to ask one question of his own:

“Can… Can you let go of me now?”

“What? Why would I? You attacked me out of nowhere, why would it be a wise move for me to-!”

“I know, I know, but that wasn’t me, something somehow has the power to take control over my senses from time to time, and I have no way to determine when or how these episodes happen, I swear on my life, I’m telling you the truth!”

This doesn’t stop Umbra from treating this declaration with suspicion, rubbing Skiajata’s hilt as he observes the fallen frame and contemplates his options, but Excalibur isn’t done just yet.

“You remember the Ascaris, right? Captain Vor, my awakening, that whole debacle, but especially the Ascaris.”

“That thing he attached to your leg and pretended to use to gain control over you? Wait, didn’t you eventually get rid of it with a negator?”

“Yeah, or at least that’s what I thought,but somehow, it seems that thing left a bit of a side effect before coming off, and now something just gains control over me from time to time and does whatever it wants, usually involving unintended violence.”

Just as he expected, Umbra isn’t buying it at all, he seems even more skeptical than before with him just staring into his face, trying to process why he would say something like that. Excalibur clears his throat to break the silence and tries to pry a response out of him:

“So?”

“Do you seriously expect me to believe something so ridiculous, so illogical, and so convenient for the current moment and your present situation?”

“Isn’t that quite rich from you, who has just dumped an entire book chapter or whatever of history upon me, hoping that I’ll just believe you like it’s that bloody damn easy?”

And just like that, Umbra has been played, outdone in his own field of expertise. He thought he could dominate the conversation with his classy, refined speech, and his carefully chosen words, but Excalibur easily found the error in his logic.

“So what?” The twilight frame asks, lacking amusement “Will we just stay in this silly stalemate for the rest of time?”

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and an outlandish claim for an outlandish claim, if you prefer to put it that way.”

“Do you really think that will get you out of this?”

“It’s just a proposition, one that will benefit us both. Believe what I said, tolerate me and help me with my long journey to find a solution for it, and in return, I will accept your claims too, or at the very least keep them in mind just in case… The worst case scenario ends up coming true.”

That doesn’t really sound like that bad of an offer for Umbra now, who really just wants his story to be heard, and most importantly, believed. However, there’s still one very crucial detail…

“What about the others? What will you tell them? Will you even tell them?”

“I’ll make sure they hear me out on this, I promise.”

“There’s one last thing, one last favor, and this will be the most important from now on.”

“And that is…?”

“We’ll keep talking about this among ourselves. Us, me, you, Ivara, Oberon, and whoever else you deem as trustworthy enough to join in, and the Lotus can’t find out about this under any circumstance. If she does, we will most certainly be done for.”

What once started as a fairly simple deal, a claim for a claim, now has reached a greater need to trust, as it has escalated into a more complicated matter that would require unconditional loyalty from both parties involved. There isn’t that much of an option for both of them anyway, it’s a tough, but rather mandatory compromise in both ends.

“So we have a deal. May you let go of my hand now?”

Umbra reluctantly withdraws Skiajata from its fixed position, finally allowing Excalibur’s wounded hand free movement. He immediately pulls it closer to his chest, rolling back up to his feet but still being met by a cautious threat from Umbra’s blade right against his throat. Excalibur doesn’t treat this response with hostility, he would be just as wary if he was him.

“I’m not taking any chances,” Umbra clarifies “but I’ll come with you. Someone needs to make sure you people watch your mouths and make sure you don’t say the wrong things to the wrong people at the wrong time.”

“Your faith on us truly impresses me.”

“This is my last shot at getting all of this information out there, I can’t allow even the slightest mistake that could compromise this entire scheme.” Umbra tells him, with his most worried tone yet. He’s indeed very emotionally invested in this for some reason, even lowering and sheathing his sword after having said this, appearing more calm and mild-mannered compared to just a few moments ago. At least Excalibur can appreciate this gesture.

“Well, I hope you can make yourself comfortable for the ride in my orbiter.”

“That will depend on how well you furnished it, which considering your taste, or lack thereof, I bet this isn’t going to be the most pleasant of journeys, at all.”

Excalibur would be offended if that wasn’t quite the accurate statement, already focusing mostly on his pain, clutching his left hand as tightly as he can. At least he managed to stop the bleeding, but this one will sure prove to be one hell of a wound to stitch up. His largest worry, however, is how he’s going to explain Umbra’s return to everyone at Fortuna.

“Umbra, how are you going to justify your absence? It’s been a pretty while since you left.”

Umbra gives it some thought for a moment, before coming up with an answer:

“An apology to precede the long explanation should suffice, as long as the Lotus isn’t in the call to hear us, don’t you think?”

“I’m no expert when it comes to just talking with people, so I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but I think that will be enough to keep their temper under control.”

The approving nod from Umbra seems to be all the confirmation he will need, as both finish gathering their things, finally abandoning the crumbling outpost just in time to watch the sun set under the horizon. At least Excalibur’s orbiter still remains where he parked it, there shouldn’t be any further incidents from here on.

Before getting into his ship, Excalibur takes one last glance at his injured hand. If he gained an “ally” and his forgiveness up to a certain extent, in exchange for almost losing a hand or even his own life, it might have been somewhat worth it. At least he wouldn’t mind if next time was a bit more cost-free, though.


	12. XI: Blessings with Subtle Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Umbra's return to the faction doesn't go unnoticed by his closest friends, who share a crucial talk and a more light-hearted moment with each other until duty calls once again.

“And as such, I apologize for nine months of unannounced, unexpected and uncalled for absence, you guys should’ve gotten better treatment from me, since I supposedly placed all my trust on the three of you with this delicate matter.”

Ivara and Oberon quite certainly look pretty intrigued, Umbra has just come back to Fortuna offering little more than an apology and a long, nuanced explanation for his departure and everything he had to tell them before the incident. Ivara, who just seems to be in absolute disbelief, turns her gaze towards Oberon, hoping to see a similar reaction from him. However, she’s only met by a slight disappointment, as Oberon appears more amazed than anything, one hand supporting his chin while the other holds his elbow, listening attentively. She would question this right away, but Excalibur also seems to trust Umbra somewhat, as he let him say all he wanted to say, when he would have been the first person to express suspicion and start asking questions. This is definitely an anomaly, something she didn’t expect to see, and she would put it into question as soon as possible, but he just apologized with a tone she found filled with sincerity, you could call that her moral weak spot.

“So I think that should wrap things up.” Excalibur says, taking a step forward “Just as Umbra suggested, we will remain in constant contact about this, and the introduction of someone else into this conversation will have to be evaluated and authorized by the rest of us.”

Ivara still remains disconcerted, but Oberon and Umbra nod approvingly, agreeing to these terms. Umbra in particular has something else to add:

“This is an extremely delicate subject we’re handling between us, we need to be extremely careful with the way we spread this information, one wrong move and this will reach the Lotus’ ears and we’ll be done for.”

“Why are we even getting involved with this?” Ivara asks with concern “If we’re putting so much on the line, if we have to put ourselves at risk up to such a disgusting degree, then why are we even considering this?”

“If these claims turn out to be true, then we’re in for some big trouble if not all of us or at least most of us are aware of this.” Oberon comments with a level of seriousness that surprises her “Staying prepared for this scenario would save many lives, as long as they’re at least willing to accept it.”

“I know you’re struggling to believe me, Ivara, you do have the right to doubt all I’ve been saying.” Umbra tells her “However, I am fully certain of the things my memories hold, and I’m not calling you to separate from your space mother, I just want you to keep your eyes open, and your head always turned towards her at all times.”

“You basically just told us she could betray us at any given time if we don’t keep an eye on her!” Ivara responds with more exasperation.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He says, with a slightly smug tone that would annoy anyone else but her “I never called her a traitor, not even once. I just said that, as the Sentient she is, she’s a machine with a critical flaw, a flaw that could get us all killed if we don’t watch our backs. Keep that distinction in mind, she’s not going to betray us at her own will, her flawed programming will just take the best of her and make her do the unthinkable.”

“Wouldn’t that make it slightly worse?” She asks with a mildly whiny tone, quite rare from her.

“Now, now, Ivara, we’re getting nit-picky now, aren’t we?” Oberon questions, gently trying to soothe her back into a positive mood, and it works, even if just partly. It seems she won’t be expressing any further complaints anymore, but she still isn’t pleased with the turnout of events. At least Oberon rubbing her shoulders eases up the tension greatly.

Speaking of tension, they catch their most recent member, Atropos, slowly pacing around, holding a large holo-screen right in front of her face, with text that looks too tiny for them to read from the distance between them. Perhaps they might be able to recognize some of it if they get closer, but that wouldn’t be the wisest of moves with a frame that barely tolerates them, and in exchange they barely tolerate. Valkyr would’ve certainly skinned her at least twice if given the chance or the necessary loneliness with her victim, considering the multiple negative comments about the Lotus she’s had to withstand from her, but if the Lotus wants to keep her around for whatever reason, may it be unbeknownst to them or not, then so be it, at least for now.

“Well, that one’s certainly new to me” Umbra comments with his trademark class, not blunt enough to catch the other frames’ attentions, not subtle enough to not catch hers. It proves to be a clear enough remark for her to stop for a moment, closing her screen, just to slightly turn her head and make the barest effort to give him a glance without wanting to give him the pleasure of earning her full attention. This lasts for little more than three seconds or so, before she opens her text again and keeps going her own way, not even trying to acknowledge the presence of the others. He’s almost certain he saw her scoff at him very briefly, though.

“I think I’ve found our newest member, people” He says with sudden joy. The others just turn to stare at him directly, with varying degrees of confusion, disbelief, and utter disappointment.

“Joking, just joking. Sheesh, I leave for nine months and nobody’s allowed to kid around anymore?”

The frames’ moods immediately improve upon finding out they were just being played, Excalibur in particular letting out a sigh of relief. Umbra would laugh at this display, but he’s genuinely intrigued about this new individual, as it seems so far that nobody likes her for whatever reason.

“Anything wrong in particular with that lass over there?” He says, pointing at Atropos with less enthusiasm than before. Seeing Excalibur and Oberon with arms crossed, and Ivara with a less gentle posture, already gives him a solid clue of what might have happened or could be happening. Before he can make a final assumption, however, Oberon answers this question for him:

“A newcomer, if you couldn’t tell already. She forms part of a ‘GEN II’, or whatever that even means, and I suppose being a GEN II means you are one of the biggest arseholes in the entire Origin system. Whatever she doesn’t hate, she shows apathy or utter disdain towards. You could call her a lone wolf, but even those show a glimpse of respect and modesty towards their equals and superiors, especially the latter.”

Umbra’s most certainly fascinated by this. Sure, he can understand the lone wolf attitude, as he is one himself, and he can somewhat relate to the disrespect towards authorities figures as well. He is genuinely curious about the degree this rejection might be at.

“The latter? Who would be her superiors in that phrase?”

“Who do you think?” Oberon asks back in a more rhetorical fashion, slightly surprising Umbra for a brief instant before he quickly figures it out.

“Let me guess: Space mother?”

“Space mother.” The other frames answer at the same time, each more unamused than the other. Umbra proves subtly delighted by this, one more frame that might or might not reasonably suspect the Lotus. That is, of course, as long as this suspicion isn’t based on sheer, shallow hatred, and considering just how…  _ friendly  _ this frame seems to be, it might as well be just that. Furthermore, there is that little detail, that “GEN II” which Oberon used to tag her. It wouldn’t be anything important, but if that were the case, he wouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place. It might not be ringing any bells for him right now, but he knows his memory is as reliable as it is conveniently inconvenient with certain details, it seems to only remember some specific things, and very often omits a great deal of information, and he feels he could easily remember what GEN II means, once his mind decides it’s the right time to unlock that set of memories.

Shortly after Atropos fully abandons the street and goes back to her usual spot on that rooftop, they resume their discussion, which quickly deviates from garnering possible new members to more mundane subjects, like what they have been up to since Umbra’s departure up until his return. None of them besides Excalibur deliver a noteworthy response, boiling down to telling Umbra they’ve just been busy with the usual, that being taking care of more tasks and missions that have been getting progressively more and more boring and uninteresting. After all, there’s only so much they can do with a Grineer empire whose expansion speed has dropped significantly, the increasingly tight Corpus grip on system-wide trade has forced them to be especially cautious with the fuel, ammunition and cloning resources consumption, although the latter wouldn’t be too affected, considering they’ll always find a way to keep mass producing themselves. Nevertheless, it only seems to be getting worse, or better, depending on who you ask. Of course, this certainly isn’t going to affect Lotus and the Tenno anytime soon, their means to fund their operations have always been more clandestine in comparison. Besides, a more restrictive set of trade opportunities will only encourage growth in the black market, further increasing the reach for the Tenno to gain influence and trading partners. Either Corpus is growing desperate for an increase in their profits, or they lack the awareness to notice this consequence of their quest to fill their vaults and accounts with credits.

The group separates a few minutes later, after having run out of subjects to address. Umbra has once again been left to his own affairs, just like old times, but this time he has people to rely on just in case things go south. Excalibur goes to his orbiter to catch some rest and meditation, still trying to find a way to control his own self, and Oberon and Ivara walk down the main street together. They’re used to sharing lengthy, engaging chats with each other on a daily basis, but this time they can’t come up with anything to say. Umbra’s couple bombshells for revelations and their subsequent agreement have left them with very little to address, and it seems it’s going to stay like that for the rest of the day, until Ivara clears her throat to finally break the silence and say something:

“S-so… We’re all together in this, right? We’ll all just be pretty little liars to the Lotus, pretending nothing is wrong after… All the things Umbra told us?”

The confusion, the pain, the conflicting emotions, all of it can be heard in her voice, felt through that initial stuttering, her small pauses before regaining her train of thought, and Oberon easily notices it.

“Come on, Ivara, it’s not going to be like that…”

“I don’t get it, how the hell can you take all of this so calmly?” She asks him with further disdain in her voice, which doesn’t hit overdrive because she’s speaking to Oberon and not anyone else.

“The real question is: Why are you being so aggressive about it? You’re starting to remind me of Valkyr quite a bit right now.”

That hits her with the strength of one of Tyl Regor’s punches straight to the gut, although she doesn’t really look offended in the slightest, but rather saddened, clearly affected by his words, and he’s pretty sure she would be tearing up if he could see it. Immediately showing regret for his words, he extends his arms, about to pull her into a tight hug, but she presses a hand against his chest, keeping a large enough distance between the two of them for him to not be able to reach her, and she seems to have more to say:

“L-look, I’m sorry, ok? I can’t just stand here and take all these awful things being said about the Lotus. Come on, she’s like a mother to all of us, how are you not affected by this?”

Oberon actually gives it some thought. He didn’t really think of it too much during that long explanation from Umbra, he kind of just let him speak out his mind, his thoughts and his theories, numbly accepting them. Yes, of course, all those things would be crucial to keep in mind if it actually turns out that Lotus is indeed Natah in disguise, without even herself being aware, and if her original programming was intended to destroy them, they’ll have to avoid its reactivation at all costs.

“I know you, Valkyr, Excalibur and others share the same tight bond with Lotus as me, and I’m well aware this hurts, a lot. Trust me, it pains me as well, perhaps not to the same degree because I have to keep my composure, but it’s still not pleasant in the slightest. However, it’s the Lotus, it’s our leader and guidance, if we really do care about her, we have to protect her at all costs. That’s why it was so easy for me to accept everything Umbra said, if it all turns out to be true, then we’ll not only lose her, but we’ll also lose our own lives and the Origin system will be consumed by chaos once again. Don’t you want to be prepared just in case something like that ends up happening?”

With these words, Ivara shifts into calm and peace once again, now focusing on thinking of an answer for his question while trying to hold the remains of her sadness from slipping through. Before responding, though, she pulls her arm away from Oberon, finally letting him embrace her as tightly as possible. The bone-crushing pressure could easily shatter anyone else’s skeleton, Ivara can just be more than glad for having such a resilient anatomy thanks to the Helminth flowing through her veins. Returning the favor with such as much strength, she allows herself some proper relaxation after that little verbal onslaught, and she doesn’t really like shouting at people in general either, let alone Oberon. At least he didn’t get mad at her, that would’ve devastated her if it had happened.

“I don’t want to believe it, Oberon.” She tells him, pressing the front of her helmet against his chest. This act of surprising, high intimacy seems to be something regular for them, although it still appears all they share is nothing more than a tight friendship, a strong but delicate bond product of the years of experience and time shared in the battlefield, in various operations, or even just indulging in the possible pleasures of downtime together.

“I know, I know it very well.” He replies, gently patting her head to give her the barest sense of comfort. Perhaps it wouldn’t work with anyone else, but his strange talent to bring her to peace works flawlessly, prompting a long, lazy sigh from her before they subconsciously draw closer, tighter to each other, as everything around them seems to start blurring out of their vision…

“My, my, I abandon this pleasant haven of liberty for nine months and it proves, just as it is enough time for a young, healthy human woman to bear a child, to be more than enough time to bear a pair of lovebirds?”

And yet, there he is, Umbra, coming out of nowhere to force both of them to pull away from each other as quickly as possible in utter embarrassment that surprises them both. Ivara thought she would be able to cherish the moment even if just for a little longer, and Oberon for once wanted to display their closeness for everyone else to see without them being ashamed. Umbra, on the other hand, couldn’t be any more amused than he is right now, staring at both of them as they look down to their feet. Using his sheathed Skiajata like a cane and carrying himself with the class and dignity one of the ancient Orokin aristocrats would’ve had back in the day, he laughs with just as much elegance, with a faint but noticeable teasing manner hidden underneath that Oberon easily catches. Oberon softly elbows him on the midriff, pushing a groan out of his lungs, followed by more of his laughter.

“Ugh, yes, yes, my most sincere apologies for invading your privacy in the middle of the damn street.” Umbra says, softly clutching his chest but without arching his back.

“That’s not it, I just won’t let you get an easy shot at teasing me without there being some retribution.” Oberon responds “Just be glad I didn’t tug your scarf to the ground, the street isn’t particularly pristine at the moment.”

“Don’t worry, I know you value your fingers more than that, and I couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to catch you two in fraganti. I didn’t know my absence would allow for you two to share such a degree of skinship.”

“Don’t misunderstand, this is just a very close friendship between the two of us. There isn’t anything too intimate going on.”

Despite Oberon saying this with a tone filled with sincerity and security, Umbra doesn’t seem all that convinced, just staring at him blankly without any particular emotion whatsoever held towards his statement. What the elk frame doesn’t notice, however, is Ivara, glancing at him from his right side, but not with curiosity. She clearly looks on the verge of tears, first having to take all the accusations thrown at the Lotus, and now basically getting tossed into the friendzone by Oberon once again. It obviously isn’t the first time the latter happens, but somehow it manages to be particularly soul-crushing in this particular occasion, especially in front of Umbra. Sure, she can take being called a friend and nothing more in front of their other friends, but to see him treat her the exact same way in front of someone they haven’t met in nine months, instead of people they hang around with on a more daily basis, truly hits harder, way harder than anything else regarding that status has ever made her feel. When Oberon finally looks back at her, she’s already fixed her posture to her usual, softer and more gentle self, and she’s glad he doesn’t have her same expertise with reading people’s body language, or her cover would’ve been blown right away. Umbra did manage to notice it, however, but he ultimately chooses not to say a word, it might be more entertaining to see whatever comes out of this particular, unreciprocated predicament. 

“Anyone in mind to tell about this delicate agreement of ours?” Umbra asks to spare Ivara the insufferably awkward silence. Ivara immediately shakes her head, while Oberon gives it some short thought. At the current moment, it seems the general morale in the faction appears a bit lower than usual, fueled by no remarkable successes that serve as stepping stones for Corpus to increase their reach without much opposition and only the most minor of setbacks. The sheer devotion towards the Lotus from most frames he usually hangs out with could easily get in the way as well, he doesn’t think they would tell the Lotus right away, but better safe than sorry, as their allegiance is already pretty clear. And then there’s Valkyr.

If loyalty is an issue for something like trying to explain to the frames what the Lotus could end up turning into, then Valkyr is the prime example of that loyalty being taken to a whole new level. There truly isn’t anyone else besides her that holds her oath to the space mother with such ludicrous strength and passion, and despite having major disagreements that turn into heated arguments from time to time, often evolving into full-blown shouting fests almost entirely from Valkyr’s hotheaded end, her life will always be dedicated to serving and protecting the motherly Sentient in disguise. Oberon has it quite clear, if there’s one other individual he’ll have to keep away when it’s time to converse with other frames about the Natah situation, it’s definitely going to be the valkyrie herself. After all, he can barely withstand her regular fits of rage, he doesn’t want to test out what she might be capable of when overcome by absolute wrath, just the mere thought of that happening sends shivers down his spine. He fears very little, but that minuscule list most certainly includes Valkyr when she’s really angry.

“I’m not really sure at the moment.” Oberon finally delivers his answer, after a long minute of uninterrupted thought. “I wish I had an entire list of possible new members, but this information is still all too new and fresh to me, I’m barely assimilating it right now.”

Umbra’s initial disappointment doesn’t take long to dissipate, he understands the amount of history he just dumped into these frames’ minds out of nowhere. He might not lose anything if he just asks for more specific names, however.

“Well, did you at least have someone, anyone in mind?” Umbra asks, and Oberon is about to shake his head, but the valkyrie returns to his mind once again. He really doesn’t want her to be his only suggestion, but at this point, it’s all he has.

“Well, I was thinking maybe Valkyr, but then I realized she’s not really the most fit for this kind of agreement, if you get what I’m saying.”

Umbra has it quite clear, it’s not really a secret for him either. As it seems, it’s evident that Valkyr’s great devotion to the Lotus is a widespread fact, with very few frames appearing strange or unfamiliar to it. Besides, he’s well aware of her trust issues, which occasionally grow into odd, full-blown fits where she expresses her concern and distrust towards someone or something, always in the least appropriate of moments. It never is a pretty sight, neither the things she says are nice to listen to. More often than not, she spews out nonsensical rationalization, trying to find convincing workarounds to portray her fragile arguments in the most “solid” way, while also getting progressively angrier. Certainly irrational, but quite likely a product of a traumatic experience from her past, and it’s not really that hard for him to figure out what it might be.

It doesn’t really take a lot of mental gymnastics to put two and two together, it’s clearly all about Alad V. He can’t really blame her at all, if he was on her shoes, although she doesn’t wear any, he would be feeling and acting the exact same way, maybe with just an extra bit of rationale to not say foolish stuff about anything he might not like or trust all the time. After all, being captive, tortured and skinned for so long in such a miserable place would scar anyone, even the strongest of minds, at the edge of misery, if not outright throwing them into the sinkhole of horror and making them succumb to madness. Despite this, and contrary to what might be expected, he’s never thought of Alad as an outright enemy, but rather just a friendly rival, someone he would be glad to share a talk with if given the opportunity, but alas. Alad is foe and no friend, unfortunately for those that don’t hold any spite towards him, Umbra included.

It’s such a shame, then, that someone as charismatic as Alad V has to be one of their bitter enemies, because not that many frames really want to harm him. Many in fact think he could be a potential ally, a great scientist that could provide them with exclusive technology and special, greater access to the black market, among other things. Many would just settle with having him as a friend, a conversation partner, someone to share a couple drinks and a good laugh with, the usual for people you would normally hold in amicable terms.

“Yes, and I do understand why she wouldn’t be our first pick, not even by a longshot. Take it easy, we’ll start finding people sooner rather than later.”

“I wouldn’t be too optimistic.” Ivara joins in “We’re only giving you this opportunity because you are, or well, were a friend of ours-”

Oberon clears his throat, thus stopping her mid-sentence. Even outside of battle, his timing is just as spot-on, avoiding a verbal tragedy altogether and taking his turn to speak regardless of whatever else Ivara might have left to say:

“As she said, you were given this chance as you  _ are _ a friend of ours.” He side glances at Ivara upon placing emphasis on the “are”, and quickly continues “However, the others aren’t going to be as welcoming of your speech as we were. You might want to take this very slowly and with layers upon layers of subtlety, instead of shoving it all down their throats in a single instance. That would be very jarring.”

“And kinky.”

They all turn to see the source of this new voice, clearly caught off-guard by this sudden intrusion. They weren’t expecting to be interrupted while talking about such a delicate subject, and they can only hope the eavesdropper is at least someone friendly to them. They are able to sigh with relief, as it turns out to be Limbo, coyly twirling his gun on his finger as Oberon tries to figure out what to make out of this.

“Limbo, good to see you again, although your timing could use some polish.” Ivara responds on Oberon’s behalf “Just how much of our conversation did you happen to hear?”

“Enough to know you’re planning a little conspiracy.”

“By the way, it isn’t a conspiracy per se, call it more of a scheme, not ill-intentioned at all.” Umbra says in defense of his position. Either Limbo is the easiest frame to convince so far, or he just wants to give Umbra the approval he so desires to just get out of the conversation as soon as possible, but it seems that response is satisfying enough for him to at least nod understandingly instead of staring at him. Ivara still suspects something, and decides to come forward to keep her short interrogation going:

“Come on, you couldn’t have just heard so little of the conversation, there must be more you’re not telling us.”

“It’s not like I’m not telling you, you’re just not giving me the opportunity to respond.” Limbo proceeds to clear his throat “Yes, I heard everything starting from Oberon calling Ivara a friend, but nothing else beyond that.”

Aside from Ivara looking quite stung, his response doesn’t evoke any particular reaction from them, sparking his curiosity even further.

“So, am I missing out on anything in particular?”

They give each other cautious glances, trying to verify they’re all thinking the same thing, and this raises Limbo’s suspicions closer to their peak. He’s about to fire another question, but the glancing is over, as Umbra has a response prepared for him that quickly:

“Not at the moment, I’m afraid. Perhaps something will come up that you could help us with in the near future, but currently, we have everything under control.”

That seemingly proves to be enough to quell Limbo’s interest, or at the very least minimize it, as he glares at them for a long moment before letting it slip out of his mind in favour of bringing up something else.

“Yeah, to change the subject, I came here to notify you guys of something on the Lotus’ behalf, you weren’t answering her calls for whatever reason and she told me to find you.”

“Is that so?” Oberon takes his turn to lead the talk “What would that notification be?”

“Nothing special, just that the special parts and components for your project are complete and have been delivered to your orbiters.”

“Special parts?” Ivara questions.

“I think you know what they are, and no, it definitely doesn’t involve you, Umbra.”

“It’s fine,” Umbra replies politely “I just arrived, I wasn’t expecting to receive any notifications of stuff I left under construction, mainly because I didn’t leave anything on hold when I abandoned this place.”

“Oh, by the way…” Limbo extends his hand, giving Umbra an enthusiastic, welcoming handshake.

“It’s good to have you back, Umbra.”

“Well, someone needed to come here and make sure you don’t get sliced into little pieces out there, after all.”

This is amusing enough to push a soft chuckle and a shaking head from Limbo, who pulls his hand away after the greeting is over.

“So, that should wrap things up for now, I’ll see you around.” Limbo says, turning around and walking away into the main street. Umbra coughs to grab the frames’ attention and speak up also:

“I should get going as well, those credits and materials for future weaponry aren’t going to earn themselves.”

He goes around both frames and quickly steps out of the corner they’re in, walking off into the length of the main street just like Limbo did. Ivara and Oberon have been left with each other once again. Ivara rubs the front of her helmet with her hands right away, a clear display of frustration.

“Is there anything wrong?” Oberon asks her.

“All this knowledge, all of this damn knowledge about the Lotus, her past and her possible true identity, and we can’t even use it.”

“Well, knowledge has always been a blessing on its own, it’s always helped us open our eyes and broaden our horizon upon things once unknown to us.”

“This blessing needed to be tricky as hell, didn’t it? I don’t even want to deal with this, it hurts to even try to fathom the Lotus could be a Sentient that was originally made to destroy us all, it hurts to just live with the idea that our leader and guidance could also be our downfall.”

“I get where you’re coming from, Ivara, that’s exactly the same set of things rushing through my mind. However, in order to be able to protect her if all of this turns out to be true, this is what we have to struggle with. Please, if you can’t accept this right away, at least understand it, keep it in mind, it’s the least we can do with this little blessing of knowledge.”

Despite this not serving much to ease up her pain, she can at least nod understandingly, prompting a pat on the shoulder from Oberon. Solitude bathes them once more, enabling them to open their communications with the Lotus once again, who immediately starts a call with them both.

“Ivara, Oberon? Tenno, are you there?”

“Yes, yes, Lotus, we are here.” Oberon answers “Don’t worry, we didn’t disappear or anything, we just shut off communications for a little while, that’s it.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but may I also ask why?”

“We just needed a bit of… Privacy to converse about more private, personal things between the two of us, I apologize for making you concerned.”

“There is no need to apologize, I understand and respect your decision. However, there are currently more urgent matters in hand, which are the main reason I’m speaking with you two right now.”

“What would that reason be?” He asks, slightly surprised by the subtle sense of urgency in her calm, soothing voice.

“We sent a scouting duo to inspect a certain Corpus outpost, which slowly seemed to be rearranged and expanded into a pier, or a dockyard of sorts for spaceships. This duo, Betelgeuse and Banshee, were then tasked with sabotaging the heavier construction machinery, setting up bombs in strategic locations and detonating them to significantly slow down and undo their progress. However, due to a series of setbacks still unknown to me, as Betelgeuse hasn’t told me anything, and Banshee’s replies have been vague and imprecise, the mission quickly went sideways, with both of them now trenched up under piles of rubble and metal as enemy fire rains down upon them from all directions. They need reinforcements, and they need them as soon as possible, are you two up for the task?”

This sudden call to arms easily sends blood rushing through the frames’ bodies, suddenly fired up and more excited than they’ve been in a while. Oberon in particular appears quite thrilled, about to take a short sprint to his orbiter upon being given permission.

“Count us both in, send us the coordinates and we’ll get it done in no time.” Oberon asks, letting his anticipation slip through without any resistance. The Lotus nods in approval and ends the call, immediately sending the coordinates of the mission into their inboxes. Oberon, however, has one more thing to add:

“And I know just the thing we’ll use to get them out of there.”

“Oberon?”

He looks over his shoulder, at an Ivara that hasn’t moved from where she’s standing.

“Ivara?”

“If we use it… We don’t even know yet if it can be undone or not...”

.”Don’t you worry, there will always be a way, and this time, it is more needed than ever before, so let’s go.”

Ivara’s concerns get quickly silenced by Oberon’s words, at the very least for this particular situation, as she gains resolution after being reassured, stepping away from the corner with new confidence and trotting alongside Oberon towards their respective ships. They split once they reach the main street, jumping into their orbiters and setting course to their next destination, right towards that dockyard in construction, and taking off into the sky without wasting even a single second, getting past the horizon just as quickly as they got off their docking spaces, right towards a hell of a mission that couldn’t seem any more promising.


	13. XII: Su(Prime)macy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An initially failed operation to sabotage a Corpus dockyard under construction quickly turns into the perfect opportunity for Oberon and Ivara to showcase their brand new capabilities.

The rain has always been seen as a symbol of calm. peace, relaxation, a soothing gift of nature to her inhabitants and those fortunate enough to be bathed by it. Of course, not everyone likes getting drenched by water falling from the sky, they might be concerned about catching a cold or they just don’t find the moist sensation of wet clothing sticking to their skin all that much, a reasonable stance most of the time. However, this position is one hundred percent justified when it isn’t raindrops, but rather an endless barrage of bullets being fired at you. The sensation of bloody wet clothes stuck to your skin isn’t all that different, but this can be easily ignored over the excruciating pain of being reached and pierced by a few, in this case several projectiles in the span of just mere seconds.

Warframes don’t really have to mind getting their clothes wet, the most they’ll ever wear is veils, syandanas, scarves, nothing that covers too much, and they really have nothing to conceal. After all, their entire bodies are already under a layer of resistant, body-tight armor, without the necessity to hide anything private. How much do Betelgeuse and Banshee wish that the same layer of armor could stop the entire bulletstorm being fired at them right now, as they are stuck behind piles of metal and rubble serving as their only cover between them and assured death. They know very well their shields won’t be able to stop such a barrage, no matter how they try to approach it, all they can do is remain behind cover and wait for their promised backup to get them out of there in one piece. The little Betelgeuse can do is stick out of cover as carefully as possible and take quick potshots at the more reckless enemies before hiding again, always putting himself at risk as his shields get sprayed down in an instant by all the other Corpus present in there. Banshee can do even less, having run out of energy when she was forced to detonate their given bombs with her Sound Quakes, as their detonators presented a critical malfunction when they tried to activate the sequences, and despite the fact Betelgeuse quickly fixed it, it was too late, the enemy had already found out their location and intentions. Even if she had some energy left to use, the risk of stepping out of cover to use her abilities would just be too high, the bulletstorm that would hit her all at once would shred her to pieces in a single instant.

Betelgeuse gets almost literally shot back into cover, as the momentum of the bullets raining down upon his shields combined with the recoil of his Vectis sniper rifle push him right behind the rubble. Banshee immediately lowers her gun and turns around, jumping right at him as soon as she hears the impact when he lands against the ground.

“Betel, are you okay?!” She asks him in utter desperation, as the situation only seems to turn more and more dire for them.

“D-don’t worry, don’t you worry, I-I’m fine, I can manage on my own, I promise!” He responds with equal alarm, grabbing his gun again and jumping over a metal box right to the top of their cover. Before he can start firing, however, Banshee pushes him back down to the ground, just in time for a massive barrage of bullets to pass right where he once stood.

“What the fu-!”

“Don’t you  _ bloody _ dare try and do such an act of stupidity ever again, you hear me?!”

The anger in her voice catches him off-guard, but he still musters up the courage to defend his action:

“By the Lord, what did I do wrong?! How else do you think we’re going to be able to hold them back if apparently I can’t even-!”

“Don’t you just throw yourself at them, pretending to be such a dashing hero when we could die with one single wrong move! You’re not holding anything back, at all!”

“What do you mean? I’m reducing their numbers, they can’t feel confident about advancing to our position, we have to keep them where they are somehow, if I don’t do this they will-!”

“Look outside and tell me just how much they’ve advanced!”

Taken aback, he gulps nodding nervously, and peeks out to see his reckless attempts at gunning them down haven’t done much, as they’ve moved at least a couple dozen feet forward from their original position. Banshee pulls him back to the ground just a few seconds later, just to notice the defeat in his posture, getting overcome by regret right away.

“T-they moved… About twenty to t-thirty feet…” He admits, choking in minor sorrow while all she can do is stare at him whilst struggling to find the proper words to reply.

“Well… I guess I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yes… Y-you did…”

He lazily tosses his gun to the other side of their cover, sitting right next to it and resting his back on the cold steel. Instead of trying to meditate with crossed legs or more calm in his demeanor, however, he just stares down, knees pressed tight against his chest, arms wrapped around his legs while she looks at his resignation with disappointment, not in him, not in his actions or his performance, but in herself. The constant, insufferable sound of bullets raining down on the steel between them and their foes doesn’t matter to her anymore, it’s nothing but background noise to her ears, which choose to ignore it entirely.

“Just don’t do something so careless ever again, alright?”

“Why do you even care?”

Met by surprise upon receiving this question, she just keeps staring, dismissing the increasingly louder rain of bullets impacting their cover. Her struggle to find an answer is evident, even to him, barely paying attention to her, until she finally responds:

“I… Just don’t want to lose a squadmate, that’s it. Besides, you have a sister to come back to, don’t you just throw that away for the sake of ‘heroism’ or to try and hold them back.”

“I don’t think you have a family, why does it matter to you?” He asks with remarkable apathy. Her nervousness increases tenfold, anxiously fidgeting around as her hands fail to find her gun, resting against her side of their cover, at least three or four times before finally taking hold of the barrel without raising it to her arms.

“Do I need to have a family in order to care?” She questions back in a lower, less lively tone.

“No, but… I thought it would make it easier for you to relate…” He answers, the realization of his mistaken attitude clearly audible through his pauses. This remorses meet a further increase upon Betelgeuse watching Banshee shake her head before delivering a reply of her own:

“Well, in that case… I have my friends, my companions, my brethren-in-arms, and I also have the Lotus, which all somewhat serve as a surrogate family for me.” She responds with newfound security “I wouldn’t be able to withstand the loss of at least one of them, so I always do my best to help them, protect them, fight for them at all costs.”

This response manages to reach a deep, delicate spot in Betelgeuse’s consciousness, shifting his demeanor dramatically as his apathy partially fades to make room for more welcoming empathy.

“Why do you care so much about keeping both of us alive, then?” He keeps asking, still some remaining in his mind.

“Your sister would be devastated if she found out about your casualty if she woke up from her slumber, and those others who await our return wouldn’t take our losses well either, would they?”

“That sounds… A bit too narcissistic, doesn’t it?”

Their struggle to understand each other’s mindsets met at a crossroads, as Banshee takes a very long pause to find a way to explain herself to him without sounding selfish, a surprisingly tough test of speech for her upon being met with such defiance.

“Is it narcissistic to want your family to care for you? Is it narcissistic to expect the bare minimum, the essential amount of concern from those closest to you? I don’t think so, mutual worry is always key to keep a tight bond between individuals and collectives. If I worry about someone, I would expect an equal,, matching amount of concern from that same person when the time comes.”

Despite this thorough explanation, Betelgeuse still appears quite unconvinced, staring at her blankly before resting his head on his knees once again. Banshee decides to relinquish for the time being, grabbing hold of her gun and peeking out to notice the enemies stopped their advance to set up heavier weapons to destroy their cover. She sighs and looks over her shoulder, back at a silent Betelgeuse and his resting Vectis, deciding she should give in just a little further for the sake of their remaining safety.

“Do you… Mind doing us a little favor?”

He raises his gaze towards her and her hesitation, but she’s sure of this, she’s made herself know there is no other choice.

“Could you grab your gun and relieve those engineers from their lives, the ones setting up the artillery, please? Just while it’s needed the most, I promise.”

His blank stare masks minor disbelief from him, as he slowly grabs his modified Vectis and peeks outside. Before he can fire a single shot, however…   
  


“But please, for the love of Lotus, just be careful, do it for me-I mean, do it for your sister, alright?”

A brief instant to process what she just said quickly ends, followed by him looking at his scope and his very first target. Aim steady, bullets loaded, and the next thing that follows is a faint glow surging from his hands and flowing through his gun, as he finally pulls the trigger with a long sigh. The projectile emerges from the long barrel, travelling at great speed, with enough power to shatter the Corpus engineer’s visor and blast his skull open. It doesn’t end there, however, as the bullet segments into several smaller pieces, exiting the now cracked mesh of bone in many different directions, each towards another helpless victim close to him. His assistant is the next one to fall, the small bullet piece entering his eye and reaching his brain before exploding, and he’s then followed by their spares and surrounding guards, up until at least ten people have fallen to a single shot.

It doesn’t end there, as Betelgeuse pulls the trigger six more times, one for each remaining engineer and assistant until there are no more Corpus left to prepare their heavy weapons as fast as they had hoped. In the process, they retaliate, aiming their varied weaponry at the peeping frame and raining down yet another thick barrage of projectiles at him. He barely has enough time to take cover, some bullets managing to make contact and shatter his shields, barely avoiding getting hit on the shoulder by a mere couple inches.

Banshee wishes they were in a less desperate situation, so that she could clap for such a display of marksmanship from him. She’s used to doing it when her other friends do something impressive in front of her, it’s the least she can do to appreciate their talent, but not this time, unfortunately. Betelgeuse steps down, back into a safer position behind the pile of rubble, sitting down just like he was moments ago.

“Thank you.”

He raises his gaze once more, surprised by this expression of gratitude from her.

“I said thank you, and I didn’t know you still had some energy left to use.” She repeats herself, at least with the bare minimum of cheerfulness in her voice to lift up their morale from utter defeat.

“That’s all I had left.” He replies in his most monotone voice yet “The first shot was the only one I used some energy for, the rest were standard sniper shots. Besides, I had to defy your speech against recklessness to achieve it, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t. I allowed you this, this act of hypocrisy from me was necessary for our survival.”

His absent-minded nod is all she needs to at least be satisfied with these results, for now.

“But this doesn’t change anything. You still have to keep in mind that it’s better not to play hero so foolishly when you mean so much to others.”

“If you say so…” He responds to conclude the exchange, letting silence invade the ambient that was formerly plagued by bullet fire and constant shouting. This oddity easily catches both frames off-guard, Banshee more than Betelgeuse, as they expected to hear something, anything from the other side, but it’s just eerie silence. It’s very clear the Corpus garrison has halted their push until they find another set of engineers that can operate their heavy weapons properly. The next few seconds pass very slowly, both frames practically hugging their weapons in expectation, waiting for something else to go wrong. The time that passes, despite amounting to just mere instants, couldn’t be any more agonizingly slow, each second feeling like its own small eternity. All the frames can do to pass the time is think, think about better things, better times, better places to be, or focus on their breathing, counting each inhalation and exhalation, or stare at the piles of rubble giving them cover, trying to identify strange, unique patterns, picturing animal or gun silhouettes where there’s nothing but scraps, metal and concrete. Betelgeuse can even picture a pendulum in his mind, swinging from side to side, left and right, unstoppable, without anything to make it move faster or slower. Just left, right, left, right… left… right…

He’s wandering hell itself now. He thought it would be a quick, easy job, to just blow up a couple buildings here and there, and it would all be over, he would be able to move on and forget about it. He hoped not to meet any resistance, but the locals weren’t so welcoming, so he had to do what had to be done to accomplish his duty. Those were innocent lives, until they interfered, they could have avoided this tragedy if they minded their own business, and now his hands are drenched in civilian blood, staring down at bleeding corpses, covered in gunshots everywhere in their bodies, oozing out enough red to stain his soles. He’s disgusted, he wants to convince himself they got in the way, but to him, they were still savable, and he took that opportunity away from them. He wants to throw up, but not here, and not now, he still has to finish his mission. Good grief, alas that this place had to turn him into a grim reaper, but so be it, he’ll complete the mission, despite tainting his bombs with someone else’s blood. One more detonation won’t hurt, setting up the explosive and pressing the button to let this mission go out with a bang…

And with a bang he wakes up again. Daydreaming isn’t too ideal when you’re under siege, and a dead Corpus soldier in front of him along with Banshee holding up her gun, aiming directly at the fallen trooper proves what fate he could have suffered if he had been alone with no one there to wake him up or protect him.

“Dammit, they’re growing more daring.” Says Banshee, turning around to check the other exposed side of their cover “I don’t know for how much longer we’ll be safe here, but it seems they ran out of options. They will be overrunning this spot in no time, so prepare for the worst.”

He quickly nods and grabs his Vectis again, aiming at the other exit. Their exposed flanks are somewhat covered now that they’re ready to receive any other intruders, but they’re still two against eighty, a fight that would be easily beatable if the enemy was more spread out and with lighter equipment.

For now, they’ll just have to wait, wait for the next set of fools to come forward and challenge them, and that could take ages…

Or just a few seconds. Four Corpus troopers advance on each side, carrying standard equipment. This wouldn’t be anything special, but there are more coming behind them, and they’re backed up by a full battalion still ready to rain down hell upon the frames if they trek just a little too far out of their cover. They have no choice, all they can do now is fight, and pulling their triggers almost at the same time, they quickly get rid of this first push, immediately meeting a setback when the next groups are each covered by one soldier in the front, carrying a big, thick shield that can stop their bullets without getting more than a dent on the surface. This doesn’t trouble Banshee too much, who can still work around it with her rifle, but Betelgeuse can’t make effective use of his sniper rifle in close range, thus forced into awkward melee, worming his blade into even the smallest sliver of unguarded flesh. The sheer risk he takes by depending on his shields to keep fighting until there are no more foes left doesn’t go unnoticed, as Banshee is there to give him essential fire support, saving him from receiving a couple critical hits while he was completely exposed. Betelgeuse grabs his Vectis again and fires some hell of his own upon the last approaching enemies, now that there’s a reasonable distance between them.

This short rampage comes to an abrupt end when the heavier Moa walkers start pressing forward. Gunning them down shouldn’t take long, but the amount of time they would have to use to accomplish this would expose them to enemy fire for long enough to kill them. It’s either risking death to come forward and defy the walkers, or risking death by staying in cover and hoping for the best, none of those two options appealing enough for the frames to agree on right away. They don’t have the energy, their weapons aren’t powerful enough to take out those things in just a couple shots, and they are in a complicated position that could easily be turned against them if they received enough pressure. As it seems, they will most certainly require a miracle to make it out of there in one piece.

“Betelgeuse, Banshee, can you hear me?”

They’re both suddenly startled by a voice talking through their intercoms. They’ve just received an emergency call, and that definitely was Oberon’s voice.

“Y-yes, Oberon, we are still here!” Betelgeuse answers with the first new slivers of hope appearing and resonating through his voice.

“We apologize if we kept you waiting for too long, but it was like a hailstorm of bullets out there.”

“You don’t say, they were spraying projectiles at us like there was no tomorrow!”

“Ease up, help is about to drop in, that help being us, of course.”

“Us?” Banshee asks, joining in on the exchange “Whom did you come with, Oberon?”

“Would you like to place a bet?” Ivara asks playfully, prompting a soft chuckle from Banshee as they look around their cover and spot two orbiters right above. Just as their foes are about to send more troops to their position, Lotus’ reinforcements jump off their ships and right towards the middle of the enemy formation. Their styles already prove to be drastically different, as one of them chooses to glide and stay mid-air as long as possible while the other dives down and gains as much speed as possible. Their identities are quickly revealed, as the gliding frame draws a bow and starts raining down volley after volley of arrows upon the Corpus soldiers, killing those that are unlucky or careless enough not to be protected, and the diving frame lands with enough strength to push several troopers away, getting up to his feet and pulling a staff with sharp ends from his back. It’s like night and day, but their synergy is clear, as those foes that don’t fall to the arrows are quickly dispatched one by one by the other’s melee prowess, moving at a fast enough speed to chop off legs, hands, jump over shoulders and land back to impale more foes into the ground.

“Showoffs.” Banshee scoffs, but Betelgeuse is paying attention to something else, something that seems particularly new about them.

“They… They look way different right now, don’t they?”

She didn’t notice it at first, but now that she pays more attention, she clearly sees what he means. Both are resplendent in new colors, and absolute gilding. Oberon now resembles a bull more than a deer, his armor now a jet black and grey, while Ivara resembles a jellyfish, a beautiful, shimmering jellyfish, white, pale blue, and pink, with a translucent skirt and veil that make her look positively ethereal. They’re most certainly different from how she remembers them, now more reminiscent of something she would’ve seen in an Orokin facility. If she’s shocked, however, then Betelgeuse is speechless, his admiring gaze fixed upon both frames as they finish off the remaining Corpus force. Being the melee artist, Oberon takes hold of the more helpless with one end of his staff before using his strength to launch them upwards for a guaranteed death, or backwards to toss them against more foes. Ivara, the gliding strider, doesn’t hold anything back, firing her very last volley from her Artemis Bow and switching to her Baza prime, the gold of the weapon glinting in the light. Seeing they have the upper hand now, Banshee and Betelgeuse emerge from their cover, weapons ready, and joining in on the slaughter. In little more than two minutes, the entire Corpus battalion has been reduced to nothing but piles of corpses, as Banshee and Betelgeuse finally get the chance to recharge their energy after staying behind that rubble for so long.

“I didn’t know you two would come here dressed up like you’re about to go to a festival or something.” Banshee comments, checking yet another corpse to extract more energy.

“Orokin upgrades at their finest.” Oberon replies, stretching and showing off some of his modifications with all the subtlety of a Grineer lancer walking around in the middle of Fortuna. Banshee shakes her head, while Ivara just looks at him with clear amusement before placing a hand on his shoulder to finish his display.

“It must’ve been hell down here, how well did you two manage?” Ivara asks, stepping forward and inspecting their surroundings.

“About as well as two cornered Warframes with low energy can handle something like this, I’d say.” Banshee responds, glancing over her shoulder and back at Betelgeuse as he keeps looting ammunition. Ivara nods approvingly, picking up all her used arrows that didn’t get damaged or broken upon contact with the enemy, but Banshee doesn’t pay attention to this, instead wondering why Betelgeuse seems so thrilled, so infatuated at the sight of their reinforcements. They look renewed and almighty now, sure, but it doesn’t seem like anything they couldn’t discuss outside of this wrecked dockyard. As soon as she thinks about the dockyard, however, something else comes into her mind, a sudden realization that completely escaped her thoughts during the siege.

“We can’t leave this place yet!” She yells, catching the others’ attention. Betelgeuse notices it too, appearing as alarmed as her and pointing at one of the many entrances in the place.

“Y-yeah, she’s right, there are some bombs we haven’t detonated yet, and they’re still hidden inside! We can’t leave this place until it’s all come down, or else all of this effort will all be useless!”

Despite the two frames slightly panicking, Oberon and Ivara remain as calm as ever, looking into the entrance to notice a long hallway and a large room filled to the brim with machines and production lines. Nodding to each other, they’re the first ones to walk in, quickly followed by Betelgeuse and Banshee with weapons drawn.

“We should be careful,” Betelgeuse suggests “that garrison would at most have been the bulk of the workforce in this place, but not all of them joined the fight. There could still be hostiles roaming around, guarding the remains of the dockyard.”

“Nothing unexpected, if that’s the case.” Oberon replies, with a calm demeanor that emanates confidence in each word spoken “Let’s get this dealt with as fast as we can, shall we?”

With arms ready, the frames storm the room, aiming in all directions just to find that section completely abandoned. Betelgeuse points at a narrow gap between a wall and a parked vehicle, slowly approaching it and pushing down a metal plank to reveal an explosive the size of his chest, a remote detonator and a chip hidden underneath.

“I get what the detonator is for, but why the chip?” Oberon asks with curiosity.

“Each bomb’s detonation sequence requires a password to be activated, and this chip contains this bomb’s unique password encrypted and stored, with the remote access program required to activate it with the detonator included..” Betelgeuse answers “The original models didn’t have these security measures, so you could call them upgrades of my own.”

“You seem to be quite skilled with explosives, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but even I don’t remember where I got all this knowledge from. I’m not going to question it either, it has been quite useful thus far and that’s all that matters to me.”

After grabbing these things, he walks over to the largest machine in the center of the room, sticking the bomb to its base and pushing the chip into a small slot right underneath the plaque containing the Lotus symbol and a serial number. A loud beep from the device indicates everything is ready for the detonation.

“How much do you like fireworks?” Betelgeuse asks the frames right behind him.

“Well, I would say it depends.” Ivara is the first one to reply “How pretty is it going to be?”

“I can’t say it’s going to be all that pretty for you, but I can assure you it’s going to be flashy as hell if you happen to be into that.”

Banshee doesn’t show it, but she’s rather surprised by this sudden change in his attitude. It seems as though anything involving explosives piques Betelgeuse’s interest enough to make him more cheerful, talkative and outspoken, just like he would be if his sister were with him. Perhaps he finds something to be proud of in his knowledge when it comes to explosive devices, but she can’t be too sure yet, there’s still more work that needs to be done.

Betelgeuse leads the group out of the room, just in time to press the detonator’s button. Just a pair of seconds later, an explosion can be heard, followed by a cloud of orange, amber and then purple fire consuming the walls and engulfing the entire section, leaving a thick pillar of smoke behind once it starts settling.

“You didn’t tell me it would be this colorful.” Ivara mutters, but Betelgeuse still manages to hear her.

“Well, then it’s your lucky day, there are two more of these to detonate in this place!”

With raised spirits, the frames enter the next room, this time to meet more foes that didn’t join the main fight, already prepared to confront them. Electrified batons and small pistols aren’t that fearsome, although you can’t really expect factory workers to have military-degree equipment either, so Betelgeuse just stares at the scene, most likely with a poker face under his helmet, nonchalantly raising his sniper rifle and shooting them down with Ivara’s help before they can get close to them.

“That was quite the fight, wasn’t it?” He comments sarcastically “Now, back to more important stuff.”

Stepping over a couple of fresh corpses, he starts looking under many of the machines and production lines, getting progressively more worried with each empty hiding spot.

“Shit, how could I have forgotten where I hid this one? This isn’t good, what if someone found it, took it with themselves and defused it?” Glimpses of his usual, more worried  _ and _ worrisome self begin to slip through, easily catching the other frames’ attention. As strange at it might seem, they choose not to think much of it at that moment, but they still keep it in mind for the near future. To serve as a little thing to reinforce this decision, however, he sighs heavily, not with relief, not for relaxation, but filled with disappointment and frustration, rubbing the front of his helmet with his hands as the absence of the explosive fuels his raising anxiety

“Betelgeuse, I think it would be wise if you calmed down…” Oberon points out, noticing Betelgeuse’s breathing rapidly becoming more ragged.

“C-calm down...how do you expect me to calm down?! One of those sons of bitches could’ve stolen one of our bombs! I’m not going to leave this goddamn place until it’s nothing but a glorified pile of rubble, just like  _ your _ Lotus would like it-agh!”

A tight, exceptionally strong shoulder squeeze from Oberon finally shuts his rant, not quite bringing him back to a more positive mood, but at least controlled enough to let them continue. They’re going to have all the time they’ll want to lecture him once they finish this task.

“As I said, it would be wise if you stayed calm, and I think this is good enough for now.” He tells him, releasing his shoulder “The bomb has to be here somewhere, and even if it isn’t, whoever has it couldn’t defuse it without the password, right?”

“R-right… I forgot about that…” Betelgeuse grasps his hurting shoulder, rubbing it gently before going back to pacing around the room until he notices one of the machines he didn’t inspect. It fell over, most likely a product of some worker’s panicking retreat after hearing the explosion of the neighboring room. A mostly effortless lift from him is all it takes to reveal the bomb hidden underneath, which presumably ended up that way when that thing fell on top of it. Part of him wants to celebrate, but the pain and his current sorrow keeps it contained, making him grab the explosive and put it in its ideal spot without much of a gesture or uttering a single word. 

A minute later, the frames have already exited the room, just a few seconds before its explosion, consumed by a ball of fire just like the last one, now heading towards the large, central main hall which splits into three sets of staircases, one at the front and two on the sides. Playing guess would be kind of a fun game for them, picking a staircase to go up and handle whatever they might come upon, but Betelgeuse seems determined enough, despite his lingering gloom, taking the front staircase without even asking for anyone else’s opinions. The other frames are compliant enough to follow him without placing any complaints, staying right behind him as they keep glancing around. The narrow corridor up they find when they turn around the corner at the end of the stairs looks as dull and corporate as they get. Cheap, boring steel walls and ceiling with the barest of reflections, barely enough to catch the lights from the lengthy bulbs that would blend in perfectly in an office setting.

The monochrome finally gets interrupted as soon as they enter the dockyard’s upper room, with a floor paved by bourbon, exquisite velvet, painfully out of place, and furnished with polished steel tables, each with particular sets of objects on top. While one hosts globes of Venus, Mercury and Mars, others hold many models of various ships, be them Corpus, Grineer, or even from the Tenno. Next to the main counter, there is a moderately sizable bookshelf, although there aren’t too many books in the only shelf that is being used. Having good taste for interior design doesn’t mean you’ll also be a constant reader, as it seems. There is the counter as well, right in front of the wall-sized window from which the entire facility can easily be seen. This counter doesn’t have any noteworthy items, aside from a half-finished glass of champagne right next to a bottle filled with more of the beverage, and a toy or novelty item of some sort, a pair of stainless steel spheres constantly orbiting around a central energy point inside a larger, transparent crystal ball supported by a small tripod.

“It’s such a shame that we have to blow this place to pieces.” Ivara comments “But I’m sure as hell going to take this for myself, unless you guys are interested too.”

The others shake their heads, giving her all the confirmation she needs to pocket the spherical artifact with extreme delicacy.

“That should be enough, you can set up the bomb now-”

A noise coming from behind the bookshelf raises their alarms, making them draw their weapons almost in unison. Their caution and suspicion is rewarded, as the bookshelf starts sliding off the corner on its own, revealing a hidden door that was standing right behind, and the flashing lights indicate it’s about to open.

“Screw it, I’m arming the bomb on top of the counter, we’re getting the hell out of here!” Betelgeuse yells, pulling the device from behind the small of his back and stepping forward. Oberon grabs his arm and pulls him back to where he was before he can get to the counter.

“Let go of me, what do you even think you are doing?!” Betelgeuse complains at his sudden action.

“You’re going to stay here with us.” Oberon responds with calm, but still firm authority “Don’t do anything stupid, everything is under control and we’ll just have to take care of whatever might be at the other side of that door before setting up that last bomb.”

“Are you bloody damn out of your mind now?! ‘ _ Whatever might be at the other side of that door’ _ could easily be something capable of taking us all out if we just choose to stay here like a bunch of dimwits!”

“Which is why we have our weapons drawn. We won’t stand here defenseless, we’ll put up a fight, step up victorious and finish this mission in its totality, I won’t allow any cowering.”

“It’s not cowardice, I’m trying to get us all out in one piece! You don’t know what could be at the other side of that door, you can only guess, and I would love to see how a wild guess of yours can let us make it out alive more efficiently and with less peril involved than just arming this damn thing and getting the hell outta here!”

The opening door interrupts his rant, reminding him of incoming danger and forcing him to draw his Vectis with brief panic. The frames reposition themselves in spots behind the tables, enabling them more cover in case they get pinned down and pressured by whoever or whatever might come out, and it appears they took the right choice.

Another Corpus worker steps out, dramatically different from the others. A thick gray winter coat shrouds what heavy, reinforced steel boots can hint at, covering their identity with an oblate, more discrete helmet than the average box-shaped ones Corpus workers always sport. Appearance isn’t the whole story, however, as the most intimidating aspect of this new foe has to be the heavy railgun they carry, about five-feet long up to the ends of the two barrels placed one on top of the other, a whole two-feet thick at its widest point, a side handle to complement the already solid support surrounding the trigger, and an estimated weight sitting at around twenty pounds. Small-sized hydraulic systems placed in the Corpus’ heavy gauntlets appear to aid him with the quick maneuvering of such a behemoth of a gun, easily distinguishable thanks to the narrow trails of blue placed in the joints, a subtle detail they barely manage to notice under the coat’s sleeves.

Despite Betelgeuse being a single, sudden move from unloading upon this new target, Oberon makes him keep those bullets on hold until being given permission to shoot, and decides to try a more diplomatic approach. He won’t let them get away or anything, but at least he can be polite and respectful to his opponent before unleashing hell, a very much appreciated gesture in most situations, and this one isn’t the exception. Oberon’s strategic decision allows the Corpus heavy gunner not to fire at them immediately, which would have most definitely happened if the frames had tried a hotheaded attack instead.

“May I know who gave you pricks the right to storm our workplace and make an absolute mess out of our project?!” The Corpus shouts menacingly with a clearly male voice, unwilling to lower his weapon.

“We appreciate your hospitality, you’re immediately more welcoming than ninety-nine percent of your workforce here.” Oberon responds coyly “You could say our dear Lotus gave us our very needed invitation, or rather permission, to pay you guys a bit of a visit, we thought you could use something to shake things up a little.”

“You people have something quite interesting going on here, would you mind telling us a bit about what you have under construction?” Ivara questions, not really expecting much of an answer, and her assumption proves to be correct with the Corpus’ response:

“Like hell I’m going to tell you crap, you assholes! Asking me for information after demolishing all our effort and killing most of our workforce here, how daring of you!”

“I just thought you would know something, at least a fair bit about this project of yours, you look like someone fairly well-placed in your corporate hierarchy, that’s the impression your heavy equipment gives.”

“Isn’t that quite bold from you, to just try and assume my position?” He asks back, more annoyance present in his tone “I would be flattered, to be called a higher-up is always appreciated, but never from you Warframes, treacherous scum that always get in the way of Profit!”

“I have to admit, you have a very nice office going on here.” Oberon jumps into the exchange “This has to be your office, right? Of course it has to be, nobody would hide in their boss’ office for no reason unless they are said boss themselves, especially inside a secret room of all places, you would need to know where it is in the first place.”

“Aren’t you just the greatest detective, you bloody bull?” The Corpus’ exasperation continues “You figured it out, the big mystery has been unveiled! Yes, I am this construction project supervisor, or was right until you people appeared, and this entire mess will ensure my demotion is guaranteed, so thank you very much, psychos!”

As soon as he’s finished, he fires his first two salvos right at Oberon, who narrowly manages to avoid getting hit by the skin of his teeth thanks to the newly-gained speed provided by his upgrades. The bullets keep travelling until they hit the wall right behind him, leaving two fist-wide holes on the steel. He can now be more than glad he dodged those shots, his shields would’ve never been able to stop such heavy projectiles at such a high speed. So much for the diplomatic approach, finally giving Betelgeuse his desired permission to fire, who doesn’t waste any time to unload an entire magazine while moving all over the place to remain as hard of a target as possible. The Corpus supervisor’s shields aren’t even fazed in the slightest by his bullets, instead changing targets to an even less problematic Banshee, forced out of her cover a mere instant before the railgun bullets crush the steel table and turn her former protective barrier into mere scrap metal.

The glances the frames give each other share the same story, the exact same thought in mind. How the hell are they going to do anything to him? His defenses seem completely impervious so far, and they haven’t even managed to make a dent on his shields yet. This remains the case until Oberon experiments with a Smite, finally doing at least the slightest of damages to the supervisor’s electronic layer of protection. In fact, it does way more than just that, dealing a significant enough blow to prove itself as a viable strategy. It will have to wait a bit, though, as he then has to step out of the way of another enemy round that pierces through the wall once again. 

Luckily for them, they hear the sound of a magazine being pulled out and replaced, clearly coming from the supervisor. It seems his railgun can only hold six rounds per magazine before having to reload. This gives the Warframes their much needed time frame to respond with their own counter offensive, unleashing all energy-based attacks they have available. Oberon keeps throwing Smite after Smite, Ivara fires her Artemis bow a couple times, Banshee releases Sonic Booms from all possible directions in rapid succession, and Betelgeuse completes the onslaught with a full round of Fragmentation Rounds that, despite not having the same shattering effect on the shields, still trespass and burn through the fabric of the winter coat until it’s rendered useless, little more than a loose handful of burnt fabric, fur and feathers, falling to the ground on its own. Their combined efforts bear fruit, revealing a supervisor without shields when the hue settles, but they also notice a new obstacle to overcome.

Underneath the thickness of their coat, hidden to their sights and fueled by their guesses, a heavy suit of armor was protecting their opponent the whole time. The sheer resistance of the metal proves not to be from steel alone, it must be some kind of special alloy, much more resistant to bullet fire than the average armor plate. Nonetheless, they’ve still managed to expose their target, regardless of this brand new inconvenience getting in the way, they just have to find a way to pass through that metal without getting themselves killed, which is easier said than done, especially now that the steel-clad boss has finally reloaded, ready to keep gunning down the place if necessary.

Options are limited, even more than before, now that they used a hefty amount of their energy reserves to tear through those shields, and now they have a very limited amount of time to exploit this weakness, seize the chance and find a way to actually hurt him before that pesky barrier recharges, and although Oberon would’ve initially preferred a more cautious approach to this predicament, Betelgeuse chooses to tackle it his very own way before hearing anyone else’s suggestions, a commendable initiative, despite being the most reckless thing he’s done yet, making Banshee’s anxiety peak in an instant as he hefts his Vectis at the blink of an eye, immediately aiming at the boss’ head.

“Watch out!” Banshee yells, but it’s already too late, the marksman’s way too deep into his stunt, there’s no relenting beyond that point. The supervisor wastes zero time either, raising his loaded railgun to quickly retaliate at the sudden offensive, making an exchange of fire between them more than inevitable, and that’s exactly what happens. Both triggers get pulled nearly at the same time, and Betelgeuse already regrets his decision as he hears the powerful blast of the two heavy projectiles flying straight out of the dual barrels, giving him the barest amount of time to react. The first shot narrowly goes past him, blasting his shields away by just a mere breeze over his shoulder while the second bullet makes contact with one of his sniper rifle shots, making it detonate before it can touch him but still generating enough momentum to throw him against the wall, turning him into a briefly vulnerable target as the supervisor still has two thirds of a magazine to unload. 

This won’t mean his demise, not just yet, as both Oberon and Ivara aren’t just going to stand there and watch how the squadmate they were meant to rescue gets slaughtered. The elk-turned-bull frame steps in and changes the direction the railgun’s facing with a strong whack of his Bo prime, making the next two bullets it shoots pierce through the ceiling, giving Ivara a clear opening to nail an arrow or two right on the gaps in between the armor plates, drawing the first blood and making their heavy opponent grunt in pain. Oberon delivers his very own strikes too, lunging at great speed at the supervisor with increasing strength, slowly but steadily growing the size of the dents his attacks create. If strategy’s out of the picture now, they’ll just have to brute force their way through this encounter, and the added strength and speed their prime forms give them will certainly help with the mighty task at hand.

Banshee finds in her own wisdom the idea not to get involved, she wouldn’t be able to contribute much and could possibly rather become a liability, instead focusing her panic on the frame at the opposite side of the room, Betelgeuse, who’s already gotten back up to his feet, eager to join in on the scuffle. He certainly doesn’t seem willing to ask for permission, he’s going to jump in on his own without anyone’s consent, and she can only stand there and count the second before it backfires.

“Stand back.” Oberon commands Betelgeuse whilst trying not to lose focus on the fight, avoiding another round of railgun bullets by a mere few inches. This little effort ends up futile, Betelgeuse disregards this warning without giving it much thought and raises his Vectis, aimed directly at the supervisor’s helmet. The consequences arrive just as quickly, however, as the supervisor bashes him against the wall once again with little effort, fueled by the strength provided by his armor’s hydraulic systems. The initial impact is instantly followed by a snap, audible across the entire room, originated from Betelgeuse hitting the back of his head against the hard steel, and although he’s not out of consciousness yet, the bump definitely leaves him dizzy and unable to dodge what might come at him, in this case a bullet that happens to be aimed directly at his leg. Without the capacity to move with precision, he takes the shot right on the middle of his right thigh, which passes through and perforates the wall without losing any momentum. 

The cry of pain that follows nearly deafens those present, almost matching the ongoing gunfire in raw volume, before he collapses against the ground with a new hole on his leg, about the size of his closed fist, and the rush of thoughts in his mind quickly get overthrown by the risk of bleeding to death, a concern which he can’t even handle where he is thanks to his lack of any supplies to stop the substantial blood loss. He can be grateful Banshee is there to pull him away while Ivara and Oberon keep the supervisor busy while he struggles to reload and protect himself at the same time.

“I will teach you all a lesson about storming other people’s workplaces!” The boss yells, ready to unload yet another magazine upon his targets, but before he can live up to this promise, his railgun gets pushed away once again, leaving him completely exposed. Wanting to waste no more time with this encounter, the two prime frames nod at each other, agreeing to finish the bout for once and for all and marking the beginning of their final maneuver. Unleashing three more volleys of arrows right between the steel plates and towards the more unprotected joints, Ivara gets closer and closer until she’s at the perfect range to pull her boldest maneuver yet, spinning around the supervisor until positioning herself right behind him. The only thing that didn’t move along with her is her bow, with the string carefully placed against the supervisor’s neck, clearly on purpose. This isn’t the end of it, though, as Ivara grabs the arc as tightly as she can, getting on one knee and finally pulling the bow and the Corpus boss towards herself, leaving him completely exposed as he tries to squirm free of this new trap. The setup was already completed, Ivara was only the preparation as it’s Oberon’s turn now, twirling his Bo prime before sweeping both armored kneecaps with a single move and knocking him off balance, completing the stunt by smacking the railgun off his hands with surprising proficiency.

The supervisor seems just about ready to throw a flurry of slurs and insults at the frames for disarming him, but he’s shut up before even uttering a single word by Ivara tightening the pressure of her bow on his armored neck, and it looks like he’s not going to get the chance after this either, as Oberon picks up the railgun and aims the barrels at his head. Panic suddenly surges, knowing this could be it, and having nothing to lose, he issues one last threat:

“You fucking shitheads, all of you! Profit will make you pay, Corpus will make you pay, you will dread this day for the rest of your miserables existences-!”

“And for your information, I am an  _ elk _ .”

And following the fateful pull of that trigger, metal goes flying off in all directions, closely accompanied by a festival of thick red blood and the contents of the supervisor’s skull coating the entire floor and the wall right aside. Glass, steel alloy, burnt fabric and plastic, all bathed by the scent of metallic death as blood quickly cascades the virtually beheaded body, as the bullets had enough strength and momentum to turn the head into mush and the skull into little fragments of bone, which doesn’t even seem to faze the projectiles in the slightest, breaking through the adjacent wall and continuing their murderous travel until they run out of the energy provided by the gun’s firing mechanisms.

“You have to admit it, however, you look much more like a bull than an elk in this form.” Ivara adds with the least subtle cheekiness, getting back up to her feet and witnessing the mess their little execution caused.

“We might have overdone it.” Oberon comments, tossing the railgun away as it’s nothing more than a chunk of heavy steel to him now. He isn’t going to leave just yet, though, walking behind the counter to find a couple cabinets, just as Ivara was about to walk out.

“Anything in particular in there?” She asks, giving the place one last glance, her sight making a few stops on the bullet holes covering the walls.

“We just fought a Corpus supervisor, guys at this hierarchical level are almost guaranteed to have any details about big, special projects. They can’t be building a big dockyard like this one for no reason, Corpus doesn’t work like that, anything that makes them throw money away is counted as a capital sin by them, they must have something planned for this site.”

“You take care of that, I’ll go out and see how Betelgeuse is doing. He took a nasty one to the leg, didn’t he? We should hurry before he bleeds to death.”

Oberon nods, letting Ivara exit the room without any further obligations. The amount of things he finds inside of the cabinets surprises him. Handguns, chips most likely linked to several bank accounts, folders upon folders filled with all sorts of documents and licenses, scaled down models of various vehicles, a PDA that seems to have been emptied of all files before they entered the room, among other things. Perhaps most importantly, a metallic tube with lids on both ends, one them containing the label “DNV1.2” written with white ink on a piece of tape. Oberon pulls the tape off without any hesitation, taking off the lid and letting the contents fall onto his hand.

To further increase his surprise, it appears to be a blueprint, a particularly large one, containing an intricate drawing of a ship of sorts. It clearly resembles a product of Corpus design, however, with noticeably larger proportions, indicated by the numbers on the axes. The size seems to sit at over twelve miles in length up to the tip, four in height down to the tallest part of the ship, and no clear indication of width whatsoever, but this would be big enough to cast a shadow upon the entire settlement of Fortuna if placed at the right angle, and by the looks of it, it will come heavily armed and armored, with enough weapons to establish a significant degree of dominance from the Corpus navy, as it would no longer be seen as a collection of cruisers and destroyers serving as cargo ships more than anything else, they would be properly recognized as a true set of fleets, capable of combat and being an actual threat in the militaristic sense. You would first think they are trying to compensate for something, an endeavor this ambitious would be just too expensive for a faction so obsessed with profit margins, and that isn’t even taking the costs of building an entire dockyard into account. As a matter of fact, it makes a lot more sense now, their sudden urge to build a dockyard would be directly related to this brand new, massive project they have planned, a realization Oberon can’t help but express joy towards.

“Bingo.” He says with a moderately loud, yet still celebratory voice, holding up the blueprint for the others to see from outside. His happiness doesn’t go unnoticed, as Ivara gets up to grab the piece of paper while Oberon takes his turn to check on Betelgeuse’s status.

“How are you doing down there?” He asks him.

“For the Lord’s sake, this hurts like a bitch!” He screams with frustration and agony alike “How strong are those damn bullets, even?!”

“I assume not too hot, in that case. Do you think you can get up to your feet?”

“Don’t worry, I got this.” Banshee responds on his behalf, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling him up carefully. At least the huffs and grunts of pain he lets out aren’t as loud as they were earlier, when the wound was still completely fresh. However, instead of anger or discomfort, he seems to display something else, another set of emotions, disappointment, regret, shame, as if he had somehow been humiliated. It’s likely that the damage he took from the supervisor hurt him beyond a physical level, not really a surprise, considering the price he had to pay for his recklessness. Nevertheless, the other frames don’t seem interested enough to catch this subtle detail, instead placing their focus on their new discovery, which would bring meaning to this entire operation. At the very least, Oberon is concerned enough to cast Renewal upon him, quickly patching him up and enabling him the normal use of his leg once again, without even the slightest hint of limping. Having found all they wanted, they walk downstairs, after Oberon leaves the final bomb on top of the carpet, ready for detonation.

The beginning of a hail is there to greet them outside, as they give the place their last goodbye gift in the form of a colorful explosion that consumes what remains of the upper dockyard, sealing the fate of the facility to nothing but a mere pile of rubble and smoking ruins, rendering it utterly useless for whatever Corpus might’ve had planned. The last thing to do is call their cabs, their orbiters, to pick them up and get them the hell out of there before the storm catches them. The ships shortly arrive right outside the gates of what was once the dockyard, and they waste no time, going directly to them to ensure a safe journey back to Fortuna. Oberon, however, has one last thing in his mind, something that has been bothering him, and he lets it slip out before walking into his orbiter:

“And how come he didn’t even say anything about you looking like a jellyfish?” He asks Ivara.

“I don’t know, would you like to go back and ask his splattered brain to see if he can provide you with an answer?”

“Right, there’s that small detail. I guess it shall remain a mystery for the many generations to come, in that case?”

“Can Warframes even have children?”

“I don’t think so, but they don’t necessarily have to be Warframe generations, there are many other things that can talk, reproduce and share these kinds of pieces of intrigue amongst each other.”

With that serving as a sufficient closure, they finally walk into their ships, taking off and quickly leaving the storm and the rubble behind, bringing the most promising of findings thus far with themselves. If Corpus was planning to catch them off-guard, they’ve already lost the opportunity to play that card, but for the time, all they will do is deliver their success to the Lotus, something they’re sure she’ll be proud of.


	14. XIII: Aurora Over Our Heads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further downtime forces some of the Warframes to face their most urgent troubling matters, be them caused by spite, annoyance, or even looming desire.

The Tenno are restless, pacing all over the place right after Oberon had shown them the blueprint of the Corpus ship. The measurements, the possible equipment, the labelling, all of it indicates one thing, they’ve just come upon the projection of a theoretical Corpus dreadnought, one that would be powerful enough to subjugate an entire settlement without even having to fire a single salvo, thanks to its sheer size. Their estimations put the possible crew for this behemoth at a size between a quarter of a million and half a million crew members, enough to dwarf medium-sized colonies and pose a significant threat to larger ones.

Corpus isn’t necessarily known for their navy, nor for their prowess in space warfare, they would most likely use something like this as a political tool, a toy for coercion and subterfuge to those that might be unable to fight back, and that category unfortunately includes most of the Origin system save for the Grineer, the Tenno and the Infested. Still, Oberon can still feel relieved, thanks to their efforts destroying the dockyard. That must delay their plans for a good while, and it would make them spend even greater sums of credits just to finish the project, something they’re definitely going to hesitate doing when the time comes.

Nevertheless, the turmoil among the other frames is very clear, these news have left everyone in shock and confusion, wondering what might come next. Have they just shaken the hornet’s nest by destroying the dockyard? Will Corpus retaliate as a result? Would they be able to defend themselves if that ends up happening? They most likely would, Corpus has always had a tendency of underestimating them, and they’ve always paid extremely costly prices each and every single time. This might be the key reason why they seem to have been getting more and more prepared for possible encounters with each visit they've paid them, perhaps they would face their greatest challenge yet if that dreadnought ends up being completed and deployed anywhere it might be needed. Considering Corpus always feels in need to increase their profits, no matter how trivial or minuscule it might be.

Caution has really been part of their motto as well. Their recent encounter with a heavily armed supervisor and a strong garrison for the dockyard tells them they’re going to put whatever they must place on the line in order to get this project finished. If the Tenno ever find themselves again obligated to fight against a similar force, if not greater, they better have prepared a good ace up their sleeves, as their fight with the supervisor proved somewhat problematic, and if they have to fight dozens of those at once, they’ll most certainly be more than screwed, in case being way outnumbered wouldn’t be enough trouble.

Storing the blueprint back inside the tube, he sets off back to his ship, hoping his absence will mean those around him will eventually calm down and mind their own business again. He won’t be alone, though, Ivara follows him, determined to keep him company after such an exhausting mission and subsequent meeting.

“They took the news quite well, didn’t they?” She asks sarcastically, hands placed behind her back and walking alongside him.

“I honestly expected a far worse reaction from them, but I can’t blame them either.” He answers, still glancing down at the tube containing the blueprint “I have to be fair with them, I never thought either that Corpus would even think of something so ambitious, so massive, so costly, so damn expensive, especially for their standards. The Grineer? Yes, they would’ve most likely come up with something this ridiculous a long time ago, but if you had told me back then that Corpus would plan something like this, I would’ve never believed you.”

“And here we are now.” She says, followed by a short sigh “I just hope they don’t surprise us any further than this, seeing them turn imperialistic would just be too much to handle.”

“Don’t worry, as far as I can tell, this isn’t a bizarro version of our reality, we’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure about that, after all we’ve already seen and come upon?”

“I… I think so? Wait, no, I wouldn’t think so anymore, dammit, I’m all confused now.”

Ivara finds his sudden conflict quite amusing, at least enough to make her giggle softly when he places his hand on his chin. He always gives extra thought to any questions she gives him, whether he’s aware of it or not, a habit of his that she’s always found charming and tries to pry out of him as often as possible.

“Well, regardless of it being bizarre or not, it has been pretty fun so far, hasn’t it?” She asks with increased glee in her voice.

“I mean, of course it has, we’ve fought countless enemies plenty of times as these couple years have passed, we’ve made a hefty amount of friends, comrades and allies; we’ve managed to reach these new forms, we’ve run hundreds of operations and helped those in need all over the Origin system, and our sheer contribution has managed to keep the Grineer empire, Corpus and the Infested at bay, always shy of taking over for their less than honorable intentions and purposes, so if you ask me, it hasn’t been just fun, it’s been marvelous, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I don’t really care in the end if this is all bizarre or not, it’s been one hell of a ride, I just hope I can stay along for as much of its duration as I can.”

Hearing him express genuine happiness, regardless of how buried under his perpetual air of altruistic seriousness it might be, truly touches a soft spot in her. She hates to admit it, especially because it’s already obvious to everyone else except him for whatever reason, she can’t help but swoon over this attitude of his, may it be thanks to all the time they’ve spent together, or just because of his mere self.

“I’m glad we’ve been able to do so much for so many people.” She adds with lifted-up spirit “I feel I wouldn’t choose for things to have gone down any differently, despite any less than positive things we’ve dealt with, and… I’m also happy I can share this journey with you…”

This last part catches his attention with relative ease, making her realize what she just said right away, stumbling around with her words to fix her imprudence:

“And the others! W-with you and the others, yes, I’m glad I have so many friends I can help and share this ride with, it’s wonderful and I find it irreplaceable.”

At first unconvinced, Oberon eventually accepts this response, subtly amused by her nervousness when she’s usually just as calm as he is in most if not all situations. Their peaceful stroll eventually turns around a corner, signaling the proper moment for them to part ways for the time being.

“It’s been one hell of a week indeed,” Oberon comments “but anyway, I should be getting back to my ship, the Lotus will appreciate my help preparing our next moves and strategies to deal with this brand new Corpus project, and well, of course I have to provide her with my aid while she still isn’t a Sentient with the objective to kill us all.”

“Yes… That…” Ivara still manifests clear discomfort towards such a subject as the Lotus likely not being who they thought she was, even if Oberon didn’t mean it in a serious way, but as more of a joke, a throwaway comment to leave the scene on a high note. To make it clear to her that he didn’t mean to insult her surrogate mother,  _ their _ surrogate mother, he places a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it gently before softly caressing it and letting go. A small action indeed, but that’s more than enough for her to move past her worries and allow him to walk away with total peace. As the distance between both of them grows, she lets out a long sigh, unable to take her gaze off of him, that is until a familiar voice creeps up from behind.

“You failed again.”

“Shut up, Limbo. You’ve never dealt with something like this, do you really understand these… Emotions?”

“Well, I can’t really say I can put myself in your shoes, because first of all, that would be gay, and I’m not homosexual as far as I’m aware.”

“Yes, as usual, you are very funny.” She responds, clearly not finding this piece of commentary all that hilarious “And what would be second, third, and so on?”

“Second of all, I might not have your emotional intelligence, you honestly are just unbelievable in that regard. However, doesn’t that make it even less justifiable? You know every well what you feel, you know how to communicate it, you are aware that your hesitancy is just going to make it even harder in the long run to let it out effectively, yet you still cannot muster up the courage when you’ve handled way harder situations for other people without much of a doubt getting in the way.”

Unable to refute, she huffs with frustration and stutters for an instant, before finally finding the proper words:

“You’re right. However… But…”

“And do you want to know how I know all of this? The main reason I can say all these things, how I’m aware of this to an extent only you would match, is exactly because you’ve already told me all of this before. Yes, I might be paraphrasing things you’ve told me over the course of the last two years or so, from the beginning of the development of those feelings up to this point, and you could call that a disservice to those same feelings, everything your mind and heart contains, but it’s what I believe, and this is how I can really express it.”

“You really know how to lift up someone’s spirit when you’re determined, don’t you?” She questions with reignited calmness.

“What can I say? I learned from the best.” He responds reassuringly, bringing her a sense of relief she hadn’t felt for a while. This new sense of comfort allows her an easy departure, leaving Limbo as the next last man standing right at that corner, just to get spooked by another creeping up, familiar voice:

“You are a very good friend, aren’t you, Limbo?”

His momentary startle quickly fades to make room for a hefty load of unamusement to take its place.

“Shut up, Wisp.” He replies before following the same route Oberon and Ivara took, sparking up frustration from a stalking Wisp, nervous about scaring him away because of something as simple as a little scare from her.

“Hey, no, don’t walk away, come back!” She yells with regret, but to no avail, so she decides to keep up with him and remain right behind his back, not permanently, but just to explain herself at the very least.

“Look, at this point I swear I should start calling you Wasp instead of Wisp, you just can’t help but violate my personal space wherever I go, follow me like I’m a damn magnet or I have something to give or offer you, and you try to pass them off as you being playful and pretending it isn’t wrong. I could only stand it for so long, but if you don’t show any signs of change for the better, then I’ll have to force myself to put some distance between us.”

Wisp is clearly devastated, conflicted and at a total loss. She never expected someone as kind, amicable and light-heartedly friendly as Limbo would lash out at anyone, especially her, and she only had the best of intentions when she followed him around.

“Please don’t go away, let me explain!” She shouts with desperation, barely enough to make Limbo stay in place “I beg you, don’t think that my sole purpose and objective is to annoy the hell out of you, that wasn’t what I was trying to do at all, I swear!”

“Explain to me why you have been so damn insistent when it comes to being near me, then.”

“I just consider you a really close friend of mine, and since you spend most of your time running mission after mission for the Lotus and others, I thought I wouldn’t lose nothing by trying to be part of your free time, and you didn’t really seem to hate any of the things I did either. Whenever you expressed annoyance towards my actions, I always interpreted it as the intended reaction I wanted from you when I did all those things, but I never intended to be an outright thorn on your side, and because you always like to treat most situation with a layer of sarcasm, I never saw anything I did to you as wrong or extremely tilting. My sincerest apologies if my actions have created this frustration in the long run, but please, for the love of the Lotus, concede me another chance, I won’t disappoint you this time.”

Tension quickly fills the air, as Wisp stands there in expectation of Limbo’s response, who struggles to let everything sink in. She just stays there, powerless, with fidgeting hands and feet that never cease to swap places, hoping for the best, knowing she’s not even ready to prepare for the worst. Instead, Limbo seemingly relinquishes, turning around and taking a step forward to leave the scene. Wisp extends her arm towards him, trying to reach out and catch him before he goes away, but this proves unnecessary, when Limbo turns around on his own after having regained some determination, even if it’s just to face her, call her out and express his disdain.

“I don’t know what twisted concept of friendship you have in your mind, and I’m pretty sure I’m still yet to fully understand it, but what I can tell you, setting my grudges aside, is that it isn’t healthy. No, it’s not unhealthy for me, this is more bothersome than anything, it’s unhealthy for you.”

Wisp appears rather heartbroken, but Limbo isn’t done just yet:

“I’m not ‘abandoning’ you, don’t misinterpret anything I’m telling you right now. You need a chance to fix yourself, now that you know what you’re doing wrong, and I’m gladly going to offer it to you. I don’t hold any resent towards you, I just can’t find myself comfortable under our current circumstances and all I can demand from you is to bring this to a halt. I hope I’m asking for much from you, but I’m serious, if you can’t come to change your approach to whatever you might be trying with me, I’m afraid I’ll have to keep you away for as long as it’s necessary until you finally change for the better. Did I make myself clear enough?”

Despite being a lot to take in at once, she still manages to nod as a confirmation. Limbo finally eases up, adding one last thing before parting ways with her for the time being:

“I can’t be sure about what you might be going through, I don’t have anywhere near the talent Ivara has to read people like an entire open library, but at the very least I can be optimistic, that you will find a course of action not only less abrasive and suffocating, but also that you may deem more fulfilling and satisfactory to achieve your goals of… I’m not sure, whatever you are trying to accomplish with your current approach.”

Wisp, not wanting to appear too numb or monotonous with her replies, chooses to opt for a verbal response instead of another gesture, slightly surprising Limbo as he was about to step away from there once again. He’ll just have to wait for a bit longer, not listening to her would be extremely disrespectful.

“Thank you, for… Listening to me, at the very least. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to turn into someone you might find friendlier to you, but I paid tight attention to what you said, and as such, I will change.”

“Don’t do it for me, do it for yourself.”

“... Ok…” She responds with doubt, unsure of what she would want herself to be.

“Thank you very much. And now, if you excuse me, I would like to go back to my ship all by myself, my head hurts a bit after giving such a passionate speech with all those words mixed in. This isn’t definitely not something I’m accustomed to, I’m definitely not like Oberon or Ivara, that’s for sure.”

He doesn’t waste any further time after having said this, turning around and finally walking away with great relief. He can only hope Wisp will be able to choose the right path from now on, but that’s still yet to be seen. Wisp just remains standing there, processing parts of the exchange that she initially couldn’t in the midst of her behavior getting sieged down. Changing for the better wouldn’t be too hard of a task, the only thing required would be to take that big first step in the right direction. However, Limbo didn’t indicate to her any particular direction she should follow to improve herself, and without much self or external awareness to make up for it, she’s pretty much going to be playing a guessing game until she gets it right, if she  _ ever _ manages to do so. 

Wisp finally leaves the scene, rendering that small corner leading to the main street completely lonely, except for a particular frame that was observing from above. Atropos, who was apparently busy reading more entries of the lengthy, mysterious journal, couldn’t help but eavesdrop the entire exchange as it went down right underneath her. This ultimately proved unnecessary and foolish for her, both frames didn’t say anything she would care about, she only paid the most remote, barebones amount of attention because Limbo was involved, and that guy has been paying closer attention to her than anyone else. At least she can find relief on the fact he didn’t mention her or the journal at all, speaking volumes about either his ignorance, her great work at keeping it hidden, or the fact that he might not care at all. Of course, for now these are all just hypotheses of hers, she would have to engage in conversation with him some more to test them, something she isn’t all that willing to do. Taking her gaze away from the lonely corner, she goes back to her more important matter in hand, reopening the long document and jumping back to the entry where she left off.

_ “Day 54, Entry N°31: The hail has finally chosen to abandon me and cut me some slack, perhaps I will finally be able to open a line of communications with D. Knowing him, he would be the one looking for my crash site, while A would’ve stayed behind holding the line. Her bloodlust is as fearsome as it is unnerving, only matched by my beastly ferocity when I enter my Primal Myth stage. I shall remain optimistic D will know how to follow my trail, something those cursed machines would never be able to do, I can only hope he will make it to my refuge in one piece. Those chunks of metal, despite their unholiness, could not be any more tenacious, I have lost count of how many colonies have been lost to them already, let alone all the men that have sacrificed their precious lives to fight another day. Rest assured, dormant souls, this is not over yet, with our strength, we shall prevail.” _

Ever since the day that Deinos assaulted the Tenno and wounded a dormant Aldebaran, Atropos has been heavily busying herself, trying to decipher the contents of the journal. Although the identities of the author and all the people he mentions in the entries still remain hidden and unknown to her, some basic deductions put the possible owner as a warrior, a member of a military with an especially high rank. He must have been part of a squad of some sorts, which fought against those “machines” back then. Her stay has given her more than enough time to read and hear stories about an ancient race of machines raised by the Orokin, called the Sentients, and their rebellion against their creators in a conflict that escalated into what is known as the Old War. Given these lengthy entries and how they always speak about things involving a war, that has to be it, the journal would’ve been written as those events were taking place, and the entries each have a spot in that part of the timeline. The author formed part of a squad as well, perhaps they were a Warframe just like her and the many others wandering the Origin system nowadays?

Besides that, not much else has been brought forward in all the entries she has read so far. Most of the journal seems to only contain daily, mundane survival tasks, like keeping the shelter safe and clear, searching for supplies, or scouting the surrounding areas to make sure there are no enemies nearby. In addition to this, the author “GD” also spends a good chunk of the entries spewing out his concerns on the state of the conflict, his scattered squadmates, all the casualties his side has already suffered, and his many attempts at trying to regain contact with any of his allies, especially a member of his squad, “D”. Thanks to this, her reading has become a tad slow, lacking enthusiasm to face yet more monotony, but unwilling to skip over any entries that might contain key information, a paradigm she forces herself through in order to keep searching for clues. Letting out a long, heavy sigh filled with fatigue and annoyance, she scrolls down a bit further to read yet another entry:

_ “Day 56, Entry N°32: After almost two months of restless expectation, my countless attempts have finally borne their fruit. Under normal circumstances, a small signal wouldn’t prompt celebrations of any sort, but alas, these are desperate times, more than ever before, and knowing I have finally entered a functioning channel brings much needed comfort to my being. I hope it will only be a matter of time, and I won’t have to wait yet another small eternity, before an ally has the same idea as me. Hopefully D will be able to find some free time between all that fighting, at least enough to try and pick up the line, I’m not sure how long it will last open or if those damn machines are tracking me down, seeking to end me like the pieces of metallic scum they are.” _

This turnout of events for the author seems promising, enough to lift up Atropos’ eagerness to keep reading, even if just slightly. The rest of the entries will have to wait for a moment, though, as she hears people talking in the corner right underneath once again. This time her sight catches Umbra and Valkyr conversing with each other, and the things she manages to hear, albeit just faintly, hint at both of them heading out on a mission together soon. Nothing she would care about, until her eavesdropping leads her to hearing something Umbra says in particular:

“Storming the data center shouldn’t be too hard for the two of us, but the task would certainly be exponentially easier and quicker to execute if we had a third member. Corpus must have been upgrading their defenses and increasing the size of their garrisons after all the visits you guys have paid them. It wouldn’t be anything we couldn’t handle, but we should try our best to avoid any further incidents similar to the dockyard one.”

“Agreed” Valkyr responds “I could easily take on any Corpus numbers that might get sent off at us, but if you prefer to play it safe, then I won’t stop you. Who would you want to come with us, though?”

“Anyone should be fine enough, but if we can bring someone that can maximize our output of pressure and firepower, someone with remarkable capabilities as an assassin, that would be even better. Serious amounts of foes to face require greater volleys of bullets to match, and although your berserker prowess will do wonders out there, we also need to to keep our distance, and they’re most certainly going to be everywhere in order not to let us get to the libraries.”

That seems to be about enough to make Atropos put her caprice aside, considering her new options. Doing a mission like that one would prove rather annoying, even more if what they said about Corpus reinforcing their garrisons turns out to be true. However, they’re going to raid a data center of all things, maybe containing hundreds upon hundreds, if not thousands of files and documents archived inside its many digital libraries. With that amount, the odds of finding something that could help her with uncovering the identities of all the people mentioned in GD’s journal favor her greatly, all she would have to do is run the mission with them without uttering a single word about the journal, the barest of slips could immediately raise their suspicion and get them to investigate with her instead of letting her do it on her own. She doesn’t have much further time to think, though, as both frames turn in the same direction, ready to leave, leaving her with no choice:

“May I come with both of you?” She asks loudly, easily grabbing their attention. Both frames glance at each other’s faces, both agreeing that she might not be the most pleasant of companies. However, Valkyr can’t deny her skills as a slayer either, subtly nodding at an unsure Umbra to up the chances of an approval from him, and it works.

“I’ve been told you know how to run and gun properly,” He comments with authority “do you think you will be able to pull off your tricks under more pressure than usual?”

“Do not underestimate me, don’t be like pretty much everyone else here, I know how to defend myself.” She answers boldly, clearly undeterred by his tone.

“Then grab your things, get into your ship if you have one, and prove the words your mouth has spoken as the truth.”

The frames waste no further time, going straight towards the docking spot where their orbiters are located. Atropos grabs her Ascalon rifle, sorts out everything in her inbox, and jumps off the building’s rooftop, landing cleanly and, still without an orbiter of her own, chooses to stick with Valkyr for the time being. Better unpleasant, but known company than a complete stranger, after all. As soon as they’re all inside their ships, their kickoff lasts no more than a few seconds, kicking up dust from the nearby ground before propelling into the horizon, heading towards a mission that promises to answer a million questions and even more.


	15. XIV: Myth Under Construction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alad presents Deinos his quest for perfection and the shape of their near future before having to share a talk with an unpleasant individual.

Evolution has always been a capricious bastard with all its subordinates. It was never a matter of perfection, but rather adaptation, whether its servants liked it or not. Humanity would’ve never peaked had they remained a serf to the demands of the forces of nature, yet they chose their own path, and with it, they carved a long road of destruction for the beautiful, living creations product of billions of years of natural selection. Evolution was no longer their regent, they were their own masters, and everything around them was at their mercy from that point onwards. Adaptation became a joke, perfection was the new rule, and obedience in order to achieve it turned into a must. Humanity was no more, the Solar System had to open its forbidden doors for the new rulers to do as they pleased. Planets turned unrecognizable, wildlife slowly became a toy for the quest towards the perfectionist ideals of the new space farers, and they admitted no old name, other than Orokin. Anything that was left, they took and tweaked it to satisfy their own desires. Perfection wasn’t just their game, it wasn’t just their goal, it was their purpose and their entire existence, and those that didn’t comply or meet their standards of glory would be destined to servitude.

And thus, there were Corpus, there were Grineer, and there were Sentient. Those that were birthed into slavery would later spell their ultimate demise, Orokin’s defiance of nature would inevitably mark their downfall.

And now, a scientist, Corpus, businessman like no other, stands in front of a special cryopod, ready to repeat the feats of Orokin all by himself. Alad V, he’s no stranger to this, he’s done it once before, even if the results weren’t exactly as he expected. Nevertheless, his perseverance won’t fade, not when he stands right in front of a success in the making. The pod that stands right next to Deinos’ own cryopod seems to contain something, clearly humanoid, about as tall as her if not taller, but instead of the rough shapes that form the foal frame’s armor, this one bears a silhouette that displays more might and elegance, in clear contrast to Deinos’ pure savagery. Alad couldn’t be any prouder of his work, he wishes so badly to just pull the pod’s inhabitant out, embrace them and rejoice in the sheer beauty of what he’s created. Alas, perfection requires a touch of delicacy, softer than cotton if possible, and this experiment thus shall be treated like a pampered child, if it means they’re going to be able to reach their true glory.

Deinos, meanwhile, sits dormant in the navigation deck, ordered to remain vigilant and ready at a minute’s notice, a task someone with such a voracious, insatiable appetite for battle couldn’t find any more yawn-inducing. The only thing she has to entertain herself is the breathtaking sight of the stars, dozens upon dozens of constellations decorating the infinite space ceiling of Venus and all the other planets in the Origin system, but unfortunately, she’s not interested in that either. She already slightly considered opening the chart and looking at the information available, but Alad told her not to do that, she could touch something forbidden and end up making a mess out of the neatly organized map and all its tags and notes. She usually isn’t much of a thinker, but she can’t help but feel looming curiosity about her creator’s project. He told her she would be getting a little brother, and they would mutually be able to take care of each other. She isn’t someone who really cares much about the concept of family either, she’s only followed Alad’s orders because that has been her primary purpose since she was born.

Seemingly her curiosity will receive a proper answer, as she hears him call her name from the other end of the ship. She responds almost clockwork, getting up to her feet and arriving at her room in five mere skips. Alad is there to receive her, wearing that broad, sincere smile he always has when she’s nearby, impossible to wear out or take away by her perpetual apathy, something she’s never even bothered to understand, perhaps reinforced by her sheer ignorance or lack of desire to learn.

“There you are, did you get to see anything interesting out there?” He asks her cheerfully, receiving stoic silence as the only response.

“Nothing, nadda, just the endless void of the universe? Huh, well, at the very least you didn’t bore to death, or else you wouldn’t have been able to come here.”

More silence follows, as Deinos chooses to ignore him for the time being, stepping around and standing right in front of the two cryopods. The fact that one of them has something big inside doesn’t go unnoticed, and Alad doesn’t ignore this. Seeing her extend her hand towards the thick glass separating her from what might be inside, he decides to satisfy her little wish, grabbing her palm and gently placing it on the crystal. Her instinctive reaction is to swipe with her hand, clearing some of the fog and letting her take a closer look at the interior more easily.

“Can you see him?” He asks her “He might look a little rough around the edges right now, sorry about that. Making a Warframe was never an easy task, and it’s even more harder now that I’m aiming to make him as perfect as possible before letting him walk out of the pod.”

Upon hearing this, Deinos looks at him, with a gaze filled with enough disappointment to be apparent through her thick layer of stoicism.

“Oh, come on, my little Deinos, don’t give me that look. I promise I will get to work on making you a new, better armor as soon as I’m finished with him. I just haven’t found any free time to do it because I need to stay alert all the time monitoring his vitals and progress.”

“Little brother… Strong…”

It is rare for Deinos’ emotionless self to express anything other than nothingness, but Alad clearly notices it, she sounds somewhat disappointed, like a young kid thinking they won’t be their father’s favorite child anymore. Alad’s only response is to broaden his smile even further, gently patting the makeshift frame’s head before reassuring her:

“You worry too much, Deinos, I’m not going to stop caring about you just because you’ll have a brother to work with. If anything, think I’m doing this for you more than anyone else, I didn’t want you to feel lonely during your missions. No Corpus could ever compare to your might, so I wanted to create an equal, someone you would have fun working with, but never, ever I wanted to replace you.”

He can’t be one hundred percent sure that his words managed to get to her, she’s not really much of a speaker. However, confident that she’ll know his intentions are only the best for her, he allows her to take another peek into the cryopod, this time leaving her alone in the room as he walks out to set their next destination in the navigation deck. Her curiosity takes the best of her, breaking her layer of perpetual seriousness as she observes the forming might of the being resting right in front of her.

With an estimated height of six feet and eight inches, and directly opposite to her, the being inside the cryopod wears layers upon layers of white plating, a special alloy of sorts, all under his belt, most likely created by the Helminth flowing through his veins. The armor plates don’t look like anything cumbersome, as the joints are reasonably exposed, leaving plenty of room for maneuvering, a key essential for any Warframe. His digits, instead of long and sharp, seem humanoid, perfect for a stronger grasp to any weapons he might wield in the near future. Oddly enough, his feet don’t show any digits, instead being completely smooth, as if he’s permanently wearing a pair of steel boots, perfectly complimenting the extra plating on his thighs. His waist is surrounded by what could only be described as an “armored skirt”, reaching down to the halves of his thighs while the rest down to the calves is shrouded by purple silk. She can easily see why he’s still a work in progress, however, as the heavy protections don’t go above the waistline. The torso and neck lie completely vulnerable, barely covered by the same thin layer of black over the joints and fingers, while at least the forearms have already received their own layers of plating. The upper arms and shoulders are just as bare as the rest of the frame’s upper half, though, clearly making room for where shoulderguards would be placed, directly connected to the chestplate.

What isn’t anywhere near as exposed, though, is his head, protected by a single-piece heavy helm. Some sketches Deinos finds on a desk next to her shows another type of helmet that would’ve been worn by the subject inside the cryopod, resembling something more akin to a corinthian helmet from ancient, nearly forgotten cultures of the many ages before Orokin. Instead, the subject seems to wear something more similar to a close helmet, although it’s not fully distinguishable as its formation is only halfway done. However, key elements can be recognized, like the distinctive shape, a visor formed by three narrow openings on the pointed front whose purpose doesn’t seem to go beyond adding aesthetic to the appearance, the first signs of a bevor underneath, and a metal piece on top, going to front to back, which seems to be the foundation for a future crest.

“I expected something far different for his appearance,” Alad comments, having returned from setting course towards their next destination “but overall, I’m satisfied with the results so far. He still needs to lie there for a while, the plating still needs to gain shape and form up on his shoulders and torso, and after that, the Helminth still has to do its trick and give it more of an organic shape to the entire mix. It shouldn’t take extremely long, but I would say it could take up to another week or two.”

Deinos gives him a gaze which clearly conveys impatience, making him sigh and place a hand on her shoulder.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t possess the technology the Orokin used so long ago to make all the original Warframes. I’m using the methods I have available, and unfortunately, they’re not the fastest, but they’re the safest and the most reliable. I need to keep using it instead of the others, the rest would almost be a gamble, and I can’t do that when I’m putting a life and so much money at risk with this. Would you have preferred that I put your life at risk by using faster, but far riskier methods when I made you, Deinos?”

She can’t really tell him anything, that’s not her field of expertise, and her sheer self and inner mind couldn’t be any more of an enigma than it already is. Her interest lies mostly on what the dormant frame could end up becoming, given how heavy his armor already looks. Will he be able to keep up with her? What will he even be capable of? These questions cross her mind as quickly as they fade, ultimately coming to a halt when Alad speaks up again:

“I promise you will not be disappointed. The original subject’s physiology was astoundingly excellent, and the transition, despite being expectedly painful, didn’t show any signs of rejection from the body itself towards the dose of Helminth. The procedure couldn’t have gone any smoother, and this of course guarantees an end result that will be a perfect product, something the Board of Directors will be more than glad to presence.”

Deinos’ indifference breaks again, showing a hint of annoyance towards his comment, making him scramble around with his words for a moment, trying to find the proper way to rephrase what he just said.

“I-it’s not like you’re any different, you’re just as wonderful, it’s just that, uhm… I don't know, the Board of Directors doesn’t seem to want to recognize your greatness, for some reason. If you ask me, they’re a bunch of fools for not seeing all the amazing things you can do, you deserve so much better than this.”

Deinos doesn’t seem to care about anything he just said. She doesn’t give a damn about the Board of Directors, or what Alad might have to achieve, or the nuance behind her creation as a part of business. That will have to be it for both of them for the time being, however, as something in the navigation deck starts ringing, most likely an incoming call for him.

“Whoops, those have to be the Directors again. You can stay here and keep inspecting, but don’t touch anything you don’t know what it does, alright?”

She nods absent-mindedly, allowing him to exit the room and attend the call. The Directors are there to receive him at the other side of the screen, as serious as ever. It seems corporate business doesn’t allow for any other emotions, perhaps part of the reason why Alad prefers to opt for science as often as he can. The director at the center of the table clears his throat, garnering everyone’s attention before initiating the meeting:

“We were told you will soon finish the next step of your Project Diomedes. Is this true?”

“Not just any, that’s completely the case. The subject has shown astonishing results, way superior to Deinos.” He flinches a bit after saying the last bit “His progress has been quite fast too, I thought he would need a change of environment and more tweaks to the current conditions of his pod, just like Deinos needed during her transition. If my theory is right, this will make for a much more developed subject, exempt from any anomalies or conditions product of environmental alterations.”

“And how much net earnings do you estimate this subject will generate when he’s completed and deployed?” One of the directors on the left side of the table asks.

“My prediction would be at around a daily average of thirty thousand credits, and that’s just a daily estimate, not the amount of credits earned per run, and I’m not even taking any extra loot, ore or rare items he might happen to come across during the missions into consideration.”

The approving nods the directors deliver in response appear way more enthusiastic than usual, a clear sign of their rare, but still welcome satisfaction with his debriefing. They proceed to switch to talking among themselves, discussing the many business possibilities with such an item. The main director, however, seems more concerned about something else:

“And how much is it going to cost us to send him on missions?”

Alad was secretly hoping none of them would ask that question. Creating a Warframe is a monumental task on itself, and the feats they can accomplish in battle cannot be underestimated, but their upkeep has never been a subject they had to address. The Lotus never had to concern about maintenance costs for her units, she doesn’t have to pay for the well-being of any “perfect subjects”, but Alad’s case is completely different.

“Well, it depends, and it's a factor that can vary wildly based on many different things affecting it directly and indirectly.” Alad answers with fake confidence, switching back to his eccentric mannerisms whenever he has to speak about not so optimistic business “The best-case scenarios I’ve run in my simulations show a bare cost of just under two thousand credits, taking into account minimal ammo usage and no damages to the armor and systems. However, I’m afraid this would be the very rare exception rather than the rule, things could easily get quite heated mid-mission, and the results fall into a range that couldn’t be any wider than it already is.”

With their concerned raised, they give each other hesitant glances before one of them decides to bite and ask the difficult question:

“Tell us already, Alad. How high are the numbers in this range and what should we expect if we let your subject participate in our operations?”

“Depending on the amount and type of foes he might end up facing, the length of the missions, the distance travelled per run, the fuel costs to send him to the locations, the amount of ammo and energy consumed, and the damage taken by the armor and perhaps even systems, the mission cost can go between five thousand credits and two hundred thousand credits.”

Their reluctance clearly paid off, having to hear such figures from him shatter their high expectations, forcing Alad to continue and salvage what is left of his pitch:

“However, you shouldn’t expect dramatically high expenses all the time, the subject shows a lot of promise, and I can almost guarantee he’ll pay back for his own worth and costs in no time, all you have to do is give him the chance, the proper conditions and weaponry, and trust me when I say you’ll be impressed.”

“You haven’t told us yet how much it would cost us to repair your subject if he suffered critical damage in a mission. If we have to prepare for anything, what would be the worst-case scenario?”

Alad surely takes his time to answer, unable to admit he didn’t tell them everything when he had to spew out the expenses per mission. Taking a deep breath, he decides to just let it out with regained resolution:

“If something goes seriously wrong, which is extremely unlikely, the cost would depend on how damaged his armor ends up, what systems suffer the most punishment or get outright disabled and in need of a replacement, whether his shields are still functional or not, but most importantly, the condition of his energy core. The recovery could take some time between a day and an entire week.”

“And that would of course be time he wouldn’t be using to run missions.” One of the directors interrupts with raising disappointment.

“Yes, I’m afraid that would be the case, but there’s more to it than that. The repair cost, taking all the aforementioned factors into consideration, could cost a minimum of three hundred thousand credits, rising up to a maximum of about a million credits if shit really hits the fan, and that’s only if his energy core remains intact. If that essential component suffers any damage, which would be near impossible given how connected to the subject’s primary functions and how spread across his body it is, he would require surgery and a full core replacement, which would cost almost five million credits if we are even able to find the necessary parts in the market.”

Silence fills the scene, and it’s not just your regular silence, it’s awkward, painful silence, the kind that would make you want to step away in shame, the kind that doesn’t take long to make you feel restless and uneasy, and Alad isn’t any different. At least he has a thick layer of false charm to make up for it and finish his lengthy debriefing:

“Rest assured, though, that he’ll only deliver the best of results for Profit to rejoice in our success. He will know not only how to defend himself, but also to dominate and excel over any foes you throw at him with no exception, this could almost guarantee our supremacy in sectors we formerly thought would remain disputed almost permanently, do you have any idea of what that would mean for our fees and export revenue?”

“Yes, Alad, we have that very present,” The director at the center of the table speaks again, ready to wrap up the call “and overall, I can say we are very satisfied with the results you’ve offered us, and hope you continue to deliver outcomes just as promising. However, they have been extremely costly as well, that unfortunately cannot be denied, and your margin of error will have to be minimal if you want to keep your job. Did we make ourselves clear?”

“Clearer than the waters of Uranus.” Alad stifles a laugh, trying his best not to lose it over something so immature “I think this wraps things up for the time being, I hope I can keep delivering good news in the foreseeable future.”

With that being said, Alad ends the call with a much brighter mood, finally chuckling to himself.

“Ha, Uranus…”

Serving himself a glass of wine, he goes back to Deinos’ room to tell her about his success, just to find her a few inches away from pulling up the small glass cover that protects the button that would open the subject’s cryopod. He immediately clears his throat as loudly as possible, stopping her from doing something that stupid and also avoiding a tragedy in the process.

“What did I say about not touching anything you don’t know what it does?” He asks her in a scolding manner. She immediately withdraws her finger, as far away from the button as she can, proceeding to get up and take a couple steps away from the pod to let Alad inspect it and make sure she didn’t do anything that would harm the subject. He sighs with relief when he notices everything is still intact, turning around and just about to give her a lecture, when another call starts ringing in his navigation deck. Letting out a groan, he sets his wine glass on a nearby table, walking out of the room to attend whoever might be trying to contact him.

“Alright, alright, let’s see who’s next on the line.” He tells himself in a mildly cheerful tone, which instantly vanishes as soon as he sees that familiar painted moustache on the screen.

“Oh, Profit have mercy, not you…” Alad says before planting his face against the desk in front of him. Unfortunately, his plea for mercy proves futile, when the man, the myth, the jukebox himself, Nef Anyo turns out to be the one trying to call him. Despite really wanting to just hang up and ignore him if he tries again, he would rather not spark the anger of the Board of Directors, so he just picks up and lets Nef just tell him whatever is so important as to contact him.

“Alad!” Nef shouts through the call with joy “You madman, I thought your experiments would’ve beheaded you by now, but here you are, with both face cheeks and I assume asscheeks intact!”

“Just tell me what you want already, you juke-...” Alad stops himself from saying anything else when he looks more carefully at the screen. Now that he’s paying more attention, he can notice he isn’t wearing his big, hefty, and admittedly ridiculous outfit, instead showcasing a way more standard, form-fitting suit, complete with an actually classy black jacket, something way more appropriate for a Corpus higher-up than his previous chunk of an attire.

“Ok, who are you and where is the real Nef Anyo?” Alad asks in utter shock. Nef snorts in a raspy voice before letting out a deep laugh, almost immediately followed by him going back to a more serious expression like nothing ever happened.

“Ah, damn you, madman, you figured it out, the directors just told me to get rid of my precious outfit and wear something more conventional. They asked how I could just go around looking like a big laughing stock, I never figured out what they meant by that, my suit was fabulous.”

“You’re delusional, that thing couldn’t look any more stupid.” Alad comments. “Would you like me to break down everything that was wrong with it? Because I can.”

“Ha! Good luck with that, I bet you wouldn’t even be able to come up with at least three things wrong about it.” 

Really feeling his denial getting under his skin, Alad seems just about ready to list him each and every single thing, every nook and cranny that made his outfit the stupidest-looking thing in the entire Origin and Tau systems, but he decides not to waste his time on such a fruitless endeavor.

“Just tell me the reason for your call already.” Alad changes the subject, tapping his foot on the cold steel floor of his ship to at least have a minor outlet for his frustration. Nef seems to think about it for a moment, really testing the scientist’s patience which was already at its very edge, until he finally answers:

“Well, I was originally going to call just to say hello, you always seem like you could use someone to hit you up and check on you. After all, we have to make sure you don’t end up a drunken mess and screw up one of your experiments because of it. However, the directors wanted to seize the opportunity and make me let you know they’re still awaiting your contribution for the big project, I’m sure you know what I’m referring to.”

“Project DNV1? I thought it was enough with all the employees I gave in for them to use in the construction sites.”

“I’m afraid it wasn’t enough. We’re going to need a few dockyards to get this done at the speed they expect us to maintain, and the personnel you sent them couldn’t even fill all the positions in at least one of them. If I were you, I wouldn’t hesitate to meet their demands, they seem quite upset after the visit the Tenno paid us at one of the construction sites.”

“Well, what do they want from me this time?”

“Given how heavily they’re funding your Project Diomedes, they can’t just ask for a big sum of credits for you. However, they could definitely use all the fuel you can give them, down to the very last gram.”

“And I imagine they’ll want me to find even more by myself.” Alad says, already able to tell what the directors will demand from him.

“Of course they will, and furthermore, they might need you to offer a solution to a little issue that’s raising in our more remote outposts.”

“Did one of the jackasses running those things open another Orokin vault without permission and caused a massacre in their station?”

“... Maybe, but that’s not really the issue. You see. the Grineer have been way more butthurt than usual after we increased their import fees for ship fuel and weapons, so they’ve been trying to find ways to circumvent this, obviously at our expense. They got especially cheeky when they realized how little we actually care about our border outposts here in Venus, and they thought they could sneak a request to one of their higher-ranking officers to gain some influence over those territories, and by influence I mean total control by pretty much sieging them down or threatening them into submission, and obviously they had to ask the only one that wasn’t anywhere near being mentally stunted.”

Alad can already guess who he’s referring to. After all, it’s the Grineer they’re talking about, their clones have lately been resembling inbred fetuses more and more, both physiologically and in cognitive capabilities, there could only be very few that could still listen to the Queens’ orders without drooling all over themselves, and one of them stands out in particular.

“What is he planning this time?” He asks, confident enough to not even ask for this Grineer agent’s identity.

“If the Grineer can’t pay for their shit anymore, they’ll just go and get it by force, at least that’s what they have planned. So, what we should do in response is to pay them a little visit and remind them that they’re better off just satisfying the demands of Profit. After all, as long as Profit’s wrath isn’t awakened, they can expect to live their short, miserable lives in blissful ignorance of the horrors that losing their blessings can cause, especially if we are forced to take direct action.”

Alad thinks about what he just said for a moment, unsure of whether acting so directly really is the best course of action they can take. Finally, he decides to just accept, Corpus lives are way more valuable than anything the Grineer’s cheap cloning methods could ever produce.

“So, they want me to send something there to wreak some havoc among their ranks and in their own turf before they can even think of setting their feet on one of their ships and coming here?” He questions with raising doubt in his mind.

“See? Now we’re all on the same page.” Nef replies enthusiastically “I can’t say for sure what kind of gift you’ll send those clonemen, but I hope it’s something that makes for decent entertainment.”

“Don’t you have other business to attend?” Alad asks, really hoping that will be enough to get him away. Nef looks behind himself for whatever reason and nods back at Alad to give him the relieving confirmation.

“Yeah, you’re right, these stations aren’t going to run themselves. I mean, they could, but I would rather not have that happen.”

The call ends as soon as he finishes that sentence, letting Alad sigh with relief and satisfaction. At least the call wasn’t meant to berate him, but he would’ve rather not gotten the information from, well, ex-jukebox man. Remembering he left his beverage in Deinos’ room, he gets up from his seat and goes over to find her just sitting in front of the cryopod, doing nothing besides just staring at it. Still, how irresponsible to just have left alcohol in a room with a technically underage girl inside, he thinks, grabbing the wine glass and finding further relief on the fact that it’s still just as he left it when he went outside.

“So, did you find anything particularly interesting about the subject?”

She doesn’t respond, still staring numbly at the cold glass barrier between the subject and anything outside, giving Alad enough silence to contemplate his thoughts, specifically what they’re going to do next. Suddenly, a lightbulb figuratively lights up on top of his head as soon as everything Nef Anyo told him about the Grineer crosses his mind. A grin slowly forms up on his face until his mischief is evident on the glass reflection, enough for Deinos to notice and turn around to see his newfound joy.

“I know just how much you want to be running missions with the subject already, my little Deinos, but don’t worry, just give it some time and he’ll be more than ready to join you. Besides, I think I know just what you two will do first when he’s finally ready…”

His newfound determination doesn’t go unnoticed, even making Deinos stand up, clearly acknowledging what tasks might be ahead of them, and just how much they’re going to be put to the test on their capabilities and beyond. For now, however, they’ll just have to wait, for the subject, and her technical brother, to awaken and show their foes the true power of Orokin perfection.


	16. XV: Unshared Knowledge is Egoism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calm before the storm might be a thing, but calm during the storm is certainly an underrated scenario, something Corpus didn't learn to value before the Warframes paid them a visit in one of their most important data centers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains extremely graphic violence and gore in great lengths, seriously, there's a lot of death and massacre happening here, if organs flying around gets you antsy.

A storm brews up on the horizon. At this time of the day, when the Sun still bathes the soil with intense life force, it’s truly an anomaly, but Corpus cannot be surprised anymore, it’s just Venus’ way to express hospitality to her inhabitants. A little hail shouldn’t do much to their installations, but the same couldn’t be said about their crew, still fragile products of life and its mischief. Such a shame that Profit can’t do much about their fickle, flimsy existences, they’ll have to get into the data center and wait for the worst of the storm to pass, quite unfortunate when such a beautiful aurora sits right above.

At the very least they can be glad the facility has heaters installed in the lodges, hypothermia isn’t the most desirable demise by any means. The rooms appear more cramped up than they normally are, most likely due to the greater size of the garrison, clearly a product of the recent Tenno attacks and operations in other facilities they thought were safe and hidden. The same couldn’t be said about the data center, the amount of information it handles and the sheer volume of researchers that come in and out give away the center’s location without anyone needing to try too hard to track it down. Due to this, the garrison size had to be almost tripled, from the regular thousand up to two thousand and seven hundred crew members, guards, troopers and Moa walkers, even forcing them to set up a few new outposts around the center just in order to be able to house that many people. Under any other set of circumstances, it would be considered a logistical nightmare, but desperate times ask for desperate measures, and there’s no such thing as too many precautions, at least that’s how the sayings go. The bright side still seems to be the heating inside, and dozens of people letting out body heat in the same room will certainly contribute to that, a rare occasion in which large concentrations of people in a single area like these are more desired.

An announcement goes off through the many speakers placed all over the place. The hail will take a few hours to pass, they’ll have to wait it out and at least try to enjoy each other’s company for the time being. You would normally expect Corpus comradery to be warm and tight, but that isn’t the case here, the morale inside the facility feels low, cold and dire, perfectly suited for the kind of weather that’s decided to pay them a visit. No talking about their families or their businesses is going to lift up the mood this time, considering how heavy their workloads have been ending up, product of the increasing pressure of the Board of Directors to extract resources to place directly into their massive project. They can only be glad they weren’t brought forward to the border outposts, or even the many construction sites of what will soon be dockyards if the Tenno don’t get in the way again, those places presence great tragedies and unfortunate events more often than not, and wishing to join those poor souls that lost their lives during one of those incidents isn’t the most senseful of thoughts.

Warm food is served to all of them in metal trays that are just as cold as everything else the heating systems haven’t reached yet. Corpus is surprisingly careful with the sustenance they serve to their workers, only healthy and moderate rations for their meals, never any cheap slop that could barely pass off as something edible. Brighter moods normally presence lots of movement in the dining room, accompanied by the air filled with dozens of lively conversations happening at the same time, all overlapping each other trying to assert dominance as the superior topic spoken by the higher voice. However, all that can be heard at the moment is the low, awkward share of noises that come with eating, only interrupted by the occasional dry coughs, a sneeze or two, and at best to break the silence, the uncomfortable shudder of workers whose bodies can’t handle the cold as well as the rest. There might be some people that find comfort in the silence, but sadly, this isn’t calm enough to be soothing, it isn’t lonely enough to be peaceful, and it isn’t joyful enough to serve as a method of relaxation. At least they haven’t been attacked yet, but that might not be the case for long, given how obvious their position is, and the sheer value of the data they store.

Dinner time comes to an end for the first round of workers, making room for the next in line, with the soldiers at the very end, arranged to be the last ones to eat. Once they’re all done, it’s going to be back to work for those whose workplaces aren’t on the currently freezing surface, although there isn’t much to do inside a data center besides filing and storing caches upon caches of data, going from library to library, editing and updating documents, and attending requests and petitions from people interested in any of the files they have stored. Some may call it a boring labour, but it’s quite peaceful as well, the perfect job for those seeking to stay away from the tribulations of a fast-paced lifestyle in the Origin system. Sure, it might require an extreme degree of attention and delicacy to handle so many files, with a necessary amount of precision that borders capricious, but that wouldn’t be very much unlike professions in the military or as a merchant. Precision is an essential resource for a soldier, their ability to land their shots and strikes draws the thin line between life and death, while precision is the perfect complementary element to a salesman’s cunning, allowing them to strike the most advantageous deals while running a thousand laps around their customers’ slower, less witty minds with ease without them even noticing. 

Regardless, the peace that comes with such a quiet, yet still engrossing and meaningful daily endeavour can still make unwelcome room for boredom, that’s an undeniable fact, oddly more noticeable when practically trapped inside their safe haven without any signs of upcoming exit until the worst of the storm winds down. Profit usually enables them plenty of hedonistic means of distraction, yet the same can’t be said about the individual supervisors running each factory, outpost or hidden facility, with the data center being no different. Concentration being the norm demands a special amount of stoicism from its obeyants, although it didn’t take into account the effects it would have when all work and business moves in the facility come to an abrupt halt, so at least they can find relief in it not taking too long, they just have to fill their stomachs with warm food and go back to their work stations and keep doing what they do best until it’s time to tuck in for curfew.

More eating, more stagnation, more heavy silence coating the general ambient, until an hour passes, and finally everyone has been properly fed, going back to their monotonous jobs except for the garrison members, who currently have nowhere to go while the storm still keeps their barracks under siege. Maybe keeping the scientists and workers some company while.they do their research and keep compiling data won’t be as much of a snoozefest as they think, perhaps they’ll even get to see or read something captivating, which shouldn’t be unlikely considering just how many people come and go just seeking for the information stored in the libraries.

The workers don’t really do much that would catch anyone’s interest, just browsing through old documents, dating back to the days of the Orokin empire. Scientists in the field of archeology could certainly make good use of such a hefty load of information, just about the daily life of an Orokin citizen, and place overlaps with more of the data they’ve gathered, leading them to more accurate pieces of information that would end up with more documents and articles written about them. And yet, that’s not it. They’re not interested, the librarians just keep searching past it, but they’ve also compiled data, dozens upon dozens of entries, each inside their own files, all about the Warframes. Of course, all the familiar names are there, but there are also a bunch of new, unheard of ones, just a few frames that might be uncharted territory for the Lotus and her servants, but somehow not for Corpus. If the Tenno managed to get their hands on those files, however…

The next couple hours turn out uneventful, and the storm hasn't cut them any slack yet. Everything seems to indicate the garrison will just have to settle with sleeping on the floor, or stay awake guarding around to distract themselves, anything while they keep waiting for the weather to soothe up and let them go back to their spots on the surface, if that even ends up happening. Orokin history can only keep them entertained for so long, very few of them can find interest in it while the rest just wait around, hoping for at least the most remote of chances to get out of the bunker, but standing impatiently in front of the exit could only get them so far. Some brave souls are rising up, however, preparing to step out and roam the treacherous surface back into their barracks, and nobody there seems willing to stop them, well, all except for one person.

Given how the members of the garrison step out of the way when he walks into the main hallway, added to his heavier, more expensive-looking armor and equipment compared to them, this individual must hold a certain position of power over them, probably their captain. The workers, despite not being as obedient, still show submission towards him, moving down their gazes when he passes right in front of them with authority, and the same can be said about those soldiers standing right in front of the center’s exit, although that wouldn’t be all of them. Some of them stand defiant, in front of their comrades, ready to face their captain with their decision to leave, but that determination doesn’t take long to fade when their apparent leader watches his wrist get violently yanked up, leaving him vulnerable to what their chief might have schemed, but instead, the captain speaks up:

“If you so choose to toss away your damn lives, those lives that vowed to serve Profit however they could, then go ahead, walk out and face the power of nature, we shall see if your fragile selves can withstand it. However, if any of you still have at least one brain cell left inside yours skulls, what might be enough to let you run the basics of reason in your mind, then get back with the rest of the garrison with your comrades that had at least a shed of decency not to throw a fit over a small bit of cramped space. Don’t lose your minds over something as simple as sleeping on the floor, you are soldiers, for the love of Profit, act accordingly unless I have to make all of you do it myself.”

Having said this, he releases the soldier from his grasp, who proceeds to rub over his wrist and glare with remnants of defiance left on him. The others, however, don’t seem as eager to stand up alongside him, passing aside and going back to their formation, stared down by all the workers and soldiers currently in the hallway, making it an even greater walk of shame for them. Of course, the last one to make his way back into the facility is the former leader of the small, short-lived mutiny, as the captain doesn’t cease to follow him with his gaze until he walks around the corner and leaves his line of sight.

“And what are all of you staring at? Get back to your own business immediately.”

The order echoes through the entire hallway, loud and clear enough for all the curious soldiers and workers to start stumbling around, trying to get back to their workplaces as fast as possible in order not to be recipient of the captain’s wrath. In just a matter of seconds, the entire corridor becomes completely deserted, all except for the captain, sighing heavily before finally making his way to the nearest quarters. It seems at least that’s going to be it for the rest of the day, they’ll just have to tuck in, sleep the rest of the night and hope the next day is less troublesome.

Unfortunately for them, signs already start appearing during the night, that it won’t be the case. It’s obviously harder to notice in the middle of such a violent hail, but two ships quietly roam around, clearly of Tenno design, approaching the partly halted data center, and the only things left there to notice are hidden security cameras. Those few stubborn enough to stay awake and vigilant catch this sight in the video feed, despite it being blurry and fogged by the snow, ready to raise the alarm if they get any closer. However, the ships just hover the area, doing nothing that would require an aggressive response from them. Under normal circumstances, this would be somewhat of a disappointment, a let-down for a garrison that would be more than glad to eliminate targets that could potentially become more dangerous if they manage to grow in numbers. Given the weather conditions, they couldn’t have tried to deploy anything anyways, forced to watch the ships disappear into the horizon, unable to do anything against them. The guards have it clear in their minds, they will come back, and they will be more numerous and prepare to tear them all down. They can only hope the garrison’s overwhelming numbers will be enough to push them back, perhaps even annihilate them.

And with that hope, they can at least make it through the night with relative peace. The storm should be enough of a natural barrier to keep them protected from any raids, but this also serves as a barrier preventing them from fighting back on the surface, truly a double-edge sword, but a half-welcome one for the time being. For the rest of them, curfew calls, and as such, they shan’t waste their precious time wandering through fruitless, worrisome thoughts, when the now, although still not at its most hospitable, still offers more than whatever the anxiety-inducing near future could bring to their minds.

And despite everything, despite how short and barely cherishable this period of silence might have been for these working men, they can only do little more than treasure it, as a new day rises up in the horizon. Their hopes were met, the storm must have completely dissipated overnight, and now the garrison is clear to go back to their guarding positions. The towers see themselves populated once again, the walls have at least a few dozen guards walking on top at all times, the turrets that aren’t automated are fully operational and with their own engineers in no time, all in just a matter of minutes. Furthermore, they notice it must be their lucky day, the barracks themselves turned out completely intact after such a violent snowstorm, quite the surprise considering the hail’s sheer density and wind speed strong enough to freeze someone to death in barely less than an hour. As it seems, they’ve been blessed, with a great calm not before, but after the storm… Perhaps just a little too calm…

The ambient quickly turns uneasy. It’s near impossible to find peace in this silence, they would have to ignore what they saw in the recordings from last night. Those two orbiters, they got away in the middle of the storm, and they couldn’t do anything about it. They came to the data center with a purpose, an objective they couldn’t fulfill thanks to the storm, but they are Warframes, their tenacity is one of their scariest aspects, and if they can’t get something done on their try, they can come back, they  _ will _ come back as many times as it’s necessary until they feel like their job is done.

The unrest grows slowly, it creeps up like an inner, uncontrollable fire, an urge in some of them to step down and get the hell out of there, despite the state of absolute peace they inhabit right now. Many of them hold their weapons ready, despite there being no foe to fight, and the non-automatic turrets stand loaded, with their operators keeping alert for targets that aren’t there. Still, there’s just something, that lingering thought, something is out there, and it’s about to arrive, ready to make a swimming pool out of their blood and entrails and indulge themselves. Tension keeps rising, their nerves seem at the edge of boiling point, many shake not by the cold, but in sheer expectating fear, unsure of what to expect, and cursing their given knowledge of what they might expect, but blatantly refuse to accept

And then, they hear it. There’s something in the air, a damn buzzing, eventually turning more and more into a whistle the louder it gets. Whatever is the source has to be closing in the distance, and very fast, but it’s not a projectile, it sounds too large to be that sharp, and it keeps moving slightly, messing with their ears as they try to identify where in the sky that noise could be coming from, but it’s near impossible, it just keeps swaying from one side to another, back and forth, pushing the air away and bringing it back in place, that damn ear-piercing whistle getting louder and louder. Their growing anxiety keeps hitting peak after peak, with that damn whistle already hurting their ears, loud as an approaching explosive, like a bomb falling down from the sky just about to hit them, and it’s getting closer, and closer, and closer…

There are two guards who seem especially nervous compared to the rest. If they could, they would toss all their things and run for their lives, despite there not being anything threatening yet. Their spots in the middle of the top of the wall leaves them completely exposed and unable to make a quick retreat, even when they could rely on fire support from the guard towers on each side. Would they even be able to catch what might be coming in so strong and fast, however? The guards’ fingers shake and fidget against the triggers of their guns, it’s pretty clear now, the whistle stabs their ears with incredible strength, making them recoil in pain, whatever might be the source is coming in hot, but it could literally be anywhere, and it could show up at any sec-

For one of those two fearful soldiers, time seems to almost come to a halt, glancing over his shoulder to be greeted by the sight he was expecting, but hoped he wouldn’t have to presence. His adrenaline-induced slow motion sight catches his fellow soldier, limply falling to the battlement floor. That’s only the beginning of his horror, though, as the most captivating, or rather unnerving detail, is his head. Where a helmet once provided extra protection under the layer of shields, there’s nothing, the piece of metal went flying away somehow, and the shields did little or outright nothing to stop the impact, but of what exactly?

With his heart rushing tons of blood into his systems, his lingering rush of adrenaline allows him to look up, just to drop his jaw under his helmet in utter shock. A Warframe is there, Valkyr, given the physical details that fit with her specific description, and she’s literally standing on top of the descending guard’s face, or well, what’s left of it, that’s another thing. Her landing alone had enough momentum to just not only blast his shields and helmet away, but when she put her legs forward and double-stomped his face, the impact proved strong enough to basically destroy his features entirely. No intact teeth remain inside his mouth, they shattered or went flying all over the place upon Valkyr’s feet making contact, and his eyes met a similar fate, both of them just rocketed out of their sockets with the sheer whiplash effect of the impact. The nose is straight-up non-existent anymore, the skin fusing with the rest of the forming mush of flesh and tissue, as both combine when they tear apart, leaving room for a splattering brain to make its exit. The skull met just as atrocious a fate, cracking and becoming nothing but small fragments of broken bone that once protected a mind that now sees its brain cells coating the battlement floor and the ground underneath. What was once a perfectly normal and well-formed adult human head has been reduced to a puddle of bones, battered flesh, and pure red blood that now stains Valkyr’s soles, as she finally lands at the very edge of the battlement with a brand new beheaded lifeless corpse lying right behind her back.

The remaining Corpus soldier uses his remaining rush of adrenaline to draw his weapon, but even before he realizes it, it’s too late for him to do anything. An inner fire has been ignited in Valkyr, a lingering ferocity that has finally met a potential outlet, something to let her pure, battle-hardened self state in glory. Flames figuratively escaping her eyes hidden under her helmet, she unleashes her sharpened claws, so eagerly waiting to be coated in enemy blood and gore, as the guard slowly withdraws, step after step, gun shakily pointed at her with an entire world’s worth of hesitation, not that it is dumbfounded in the slightest. All the valkyrie frame has to do is claw the gun out of the way, and now there’s nothing left between the two of them, forcing the near-sheepish soldier to shout his lungs out in desperation, hoping his nearby comrades will answer. No matter how fast they react, though, it’s going to be too late, when all Valkyr has to do is take one single step forward. There’s nothing they can do now, Valkyr’s feral claws await, and at the blink of an eye, one single powerful slash blasts the Corpus guard’s shields away, leaving him at her currently non-existent mercy, and then it’s all over.

A second slash is all that it takes to tear not only through his Corpus suit, but to reach his skin and claw it apart, and that’s barely the beginning. Her claws reach even deeper, sinking into his open stomach, before she roars with beastly passion and drives her hand aside, strong enough to render the guard’s right side non-existent and send his shredded guts flying over the wall, spilling them all over the place while the rest of his being gets propelled away by the sheer power of the attack, landing dead against the cold ground underneath. The next few guards that stood right behind him meet just as bloody a fate, albeit in very different ways, as Valkyr wastes no time to use her ferocity and rip throats open, letting blood shower her and the rest like a hose out of control. In case that wasn’t enough, she finds a soldier clumsy and unfortunate enough not to react fast enough to her slipping behind his back, grabbing the back of his neck with two clawed fingers and driving them in with little to no effort. His ear-deafening cry of agony couldn’t be any more short-lived, when she finally manages to grasp the upper end of his spine, yanking it out of his body and immediately shutting him up by clawing his skull open and turning his brain into a battered pile of once-functional flesh. With a brand-new organic whip in her hands, she spots two more unfortunate souls, and starts to flail the fresh, bloody spine in her hands around, right until it knocks a guard’s helmet off their head, leaving him open for another one of her atrocities. Without wasting a single second, she tosses the long strip of bone aside, clutching her clawed hand against the soldier’s exposed face before pulling back, tearing his face apart and ripping his head off his body along with his hanging vertebrae. The remaining lifeless body falls down on its own, increasing the size of the already big, thick puddle of blood covering the surface of the battlement.

Her next act is to throw the decapitated head against yet another guard, though the very last that isn't on one of the two towers, serving as an effective, horrifying distraction, allowing her to roar once more and bring her claws down, tearing through shield and flesh alike, chopping both arms off her victim before slashing away at his chest and abdomen dozens of times, at an astounding pace, making sure there are no organs, or well, whatever may be left of them, that he would miss having inside his body keeping him alive. As his ribs only get in the way, she pulls them out one by one, pushing them violently into his eyes until they burst into a mix of blood and tears, and since the body has no use for her anymore, she pushes it off the edge and watches as a battalion of about a hundred soldiers comes to handle the gory mess she’s causing. Furthermore, the turret operators in the towers don’t seem willing to receive her with open arms either, they’re either afraid to get their suits covered in blood if she hugs them or something, or they’re aware they’re the ones next to get gutted.

Either way, fortunately for her, and unfortunately for them, claws aren’t the only tool needed to splatter someone’s brains all over the floor. Of course, she has a gun, but she doesn’t find it as fun to use as her bare hands, she wouldn’t be willing to pull the trigger to begin with. Instead, the ones to leave her enemies’ skulls completely emptied out of anything they might not be using inside, like their brains, are her very welcome reinforcements, in the form of her two original companions, Umbra and Atropos, slowly gliding down to join her, a thin trail of smoke drawn between the dusk frame’s Vulkar Wraith sniper rifle variant and the bullet holes in the heads of two of the turret operators. In the distance right above, two orbiters can be seen ascending, while one more instead closes in the distance between in and the base itself, with the clear intention to serve as the frames’ reinforcements.

Atropos isn’t just going to glide there and do nothing either, her Ascalon hybrid rifle is currently in sniper mode, and the other tower still has plenty of targets to offer, unaware of just how defenseless they actually are. Nonchalantly catching her breath, she fixes her aim and, with superhuman precision, fires three bullets, fixing her scope and her targets at near-lightning speed with each shot. The shots land cleanly, piercing holes through the Corpus alloy plate helmets, and when they exit, they’re followed by flying red and chunks of bone, flesh and other bodily fluids inhabiting their heads, creating loose openings for the contents of once unharmed skulls to spill through when they fall to the floor or off the wall, right into the snow beneath. 

Their landing zone is now clear for the most part, except for one turret guy, who doesn’t hesitate to align the heavy turret with the fateful frame. It’s just a matter of who pulls the trigger first now, and the normal thought would be to assume the heavier gun would demolish in the gunfight, except when it’s a regular human being against a heavily genetically modified killing machine with far superior prowess in all senses. It’s not even much of a matchup, the heavy gunner goes down before even noticing he’s doomed, and Atropos doesn’t show any particular mercy towards him, she fires a complete barrage that bullet after bullet, turn his face to shreds and loose tissue, leaving more orifices through his head than the surface of Lua, at this point more hollow than anything thanks to the sheer amount of blood and internal organs lost that once were inside his skull, but not anymore.

Without any more enemies to gun apart aside from an approaching Corpus battalion, the gliding frames finally make their landing, preparing for a defense of their own against the mass of foes, which might not even be necessary, as Valkyr jumps off the wall, still caught inside her bloody frenzy, right towards the middle of the enemy formation, who clearly don’t show any preparation to face a frame with her intimidating razor-sharp claws still drenched in blood and guts. It’s still clear that she’s not going to be able to fight them all by herself, and that’s why Umbra and Atropos are there to help, guns ready and pointed towards the organized guards, who have their own guns raised to fire at the descending valkyrie. Those few that manage to live long enough to actually use their weapons shoot a volley at least strong and dense enough to make Valkyr say goodbye to her shields, but the cost is immense, already getting slayed one by one with each shot Umbra and Atropos land from above. Before too long, all that remains of the formation is just piles of shredded corpses, with many of their limbs and organs spilled around, the snow turned full red and acquiring that distinctive, almost repulsive metallic scent, which the frames don’t seem to mind in the slightest.

Valkyr finally seems to start slipping off her bloody trance, her breathing drastically slowing down as her gaze becomes less primal and erratic, and more focused, more calculated. She looks over her shoulder, back at both of her allies and the descending orbiter, instantly remembering the reason she’s there, sighing heavily and gazing down at her stained claws. Her immediate disgust upon finding rests of entrails still stuck to her palms and knuckles quickly dissipates when she starts laughing joyfully, eerily rejoicing in her great massacre. Atropos doesn’t seem unnerved at all, while Umbra gives her a round of applause, congratulating her for such a magnificent, macabre showcase of lethal talent.

“Good Lotus above, I will never  _ not _ love being able to do that!” Valkyr says gleefully, taking a couple stretches whilst checking around for any energy she can drain. Given the sheer amount of Corpus corpses lying around, they have reserves for days, just in case laying siege to the data center happens to tickle their fancy. Of course, they wouldn’t do that, Valkyr would only grow restless and flip her crap into the facility to take care of business all by herself, which she already is, although they’re just standing there and waiting for their last squad member to finally make their landing.

They don’t have to wait for long, though, they see the orbiter take flight back into the sky as a Warframe quickly skydives towards their position. Their features are recognizable right away, that definitely has to be Wisp. They were initially surprised when she was the one who offered to help them assault the data center, she doesn’t like running operations with anyone besides a very select few, a list in which Atropos, Valkyr and Umbra thought they weren’t included, but somehow they were. Either she’s really interested in participating on this mission for any reason still unbeknownst to them, or something made her change and start socializing more, as long as you consider the bloody battle to be a good place to make friends.

Atropos is the only one that doesn’t appear pleased to have extra company in their party, as if she was more comfortable with less members looming around for whatever reason. Wisp eventually makes her arrival, landing cleanly just a few feet away from the messier part of the Corpus horror show, and unlike the others, she’s visibly fazed by it, staring around speechless at Valkyr’s masterpiece scattered all over the place. Instead of any appreciative gestures, she only shudders a bit before bringing a hand to her stomach, shaking her head and walking forward to finally join them.

“You don’t have the guts to handle this, Wisp?” Valkyr asks in a more teasing manner than anything. Wisp shakes her head and gazes off for a moment, still slightly overwhelmed by the sight and the stench, taking some time to let her distracted, partly troubled mind to form an answer.

“I will never understand what you find so pretty about…  _ This _ .” Wisp finally responds, pointing at one particular corpse with its torso open and guts spilled all over “But hey, I guess it’s just part of the job… Right?”

Valkyr just shrugs before walking away, stepping over ruined body after ruined body with the least of cares, making her way towards the entrance. her claws are already raised, she not only expects further resistance from the remains of the Corpus garrison, she wants them to fight back, she revels in their panic, sating her thirst for battle that’s even more intense whenever she’s up against the merchant cult, and no one can do anything to stop her. She hasn’t seen them yet, but she can already tell they’re trembling in fear, a rush of desperate thoughts invading their mind, knowing a pitiful gun isn’t going to save their lives from such a merciless beast, and she rejoices in these small daydreams. The other frames follow her with guns raised, placing all the caution she doesn’t have into the upcoming confrontation, and the Corpus garrison is already opening the large steel gates that keep them safe from imminent death. No display of false bravery will save them, what glory is there to find in being ravaged by a savage and three of her companions? 

However, there’s only one man whose wrath makes their fright match with the utter terror of seeing the state of their fallen comrades, and he stands right in front of the formation. Unlike most Corpus captains, who would only seek to fill their pockets and use their men as cannon fodder, claiming it’s “for the sake of Profit”, this garrison leader is eager to stand in the frontline, an already sharp contrast to all those cheap Corpus “generals” that are ever too squeamish to even step a single foot in a real battlefield, while he sees the dozens upon dozens of fallen men lying outside, their bodies reduced to a spectacle to empty anyone’s stomach, and can’t even come to let out a single flinch. Immovable object against unstoppable force? That’s yet to be seen, but given the current stakes, everything indicates this could easily be the case.

Silence quickly fills the air, as somehow, not even a single bullet is fired when the steel curtain is finally lifted. Weapons raised at each other, what once promised to be a brutal confrontation turns into a nerve-wracking stare-down between the four frames and an entire Corpus cohort armed to the teeth, well, mostly only for the Corpus soldiers, the only Warframe that could be said to be rather affected by the duel of wills is Wisp, but it might be because of unrelated reasons. A restless Valkyr stands right between, claws still sharp, back arched forward in a more feral stance as tension rises. All that separates them is a few feet of ground, and it doesn’t even matter when they’re holding guns that easily make the distance completely irrelevant. Once again, without them even being aware of the transition, each thought, each memory, each fear or regret, and each and every second that passes takes their breath away, leaving nothing to envy to an entire lifetime, all in the span of mere seconds.

However, what ends up breaking the fateful silence isn’t a shot, but rather speech, a string of words, of course not heard around the world, but it still holds power, enough to breach through the air of impending demise and snap the fearing Corpus out of their shared tremor:

“No matter the cost, you will stand your ground!”

The garrison captain isn’t going to let his men get overcome by fear, not with the task ahead of them, using the dread his words produce in his favour. The Warframes appear slightly surprised as well, finally one Corpus amongst many, let alone a captain, that doesn’t show cowardice upon being faced by them. Umbra has just about the right response, however, chuckling before breaking in sincere, amused laughter while staring into his eyes from a distance. Atropos still appears as indifferent as ever, Valkyr seems seconds away from shouting at the sky and losing her marbles, while Wisp doesn’t know what to do or even think.

“There’s something in here we cannot afford to lose!” The captain continues unfazed “These frames here have come to take what they don’t deserve, knowledge forbidden to them and the work of countless people, to achieve their dubious intent! If they take what we have, we are done for, and we are the only ones here prepared to defend it!”

The sight leaves the frames speechless, perhaps even they weren’t aware of the things they would get into if they tried to break into the facility, but that’s not all the garrison leader has to say:

“Don’t you see it? This is greater than anything else in hindsight, the knowledge we guard could easily place us in an unthinkable amount of problems if it falls into their hands! Your families are at risk, the future of those you love is at risk, the future of Corpus lies at risk right here! Profit stares down upon us, we are expected to protect this invaluable wisdom with our lives, and I don’t want anyone, not even one of you, to fall back or withdraw, the Lotus, that treacherous vixen will not be victorious today!”

The resulting roar from the remains of the Corpus garrison grows loud enough to surprise the Warframes, even Atropos, who finally breaks her facade and confusedly frowns upon the reassured soldiers. A finger drawn forward, the captain gives the order to fire, and thus, the main battle finally begins.

Valkyr isn’t there to waste her time, she pounces forward and already starts tearing people apart with her claws, the blood of her previous victims already frozen or dried off them. At least a few limbs, arms and legs alike, already fly all over the place, while a barrage of glowing bullets saturates the air, bathing her and her squadmates’ shields with sharp, deadly metal. The frames reply accordingly using their superior defenses, agility and crowd control capabilities to keep dodging the bullet hail while shooting down enemies one by one, and Valkyr keeps making quick work out of anything in melee range. However, their onslaught isn’t as brief as they would like, the garrison captain keeps them at bay with his own heavy machine gun, battle experience, leadership, and a second row of soldiers behind him as he slowly falls back the more the Corpus numbers reduce.

Expectedly, the first round of the fight goes for the frames, won bare seconds shy of a minute, gaining more and more ground into the main hallway. Despite this obvious setback, the captain doesn’t show any signs of wanting to give up, still staying front of the formation and holding the frames back with the threat of a furious barrage of bullets tearing down their shields at the blink of an eye if he manages to catch them in range, but he’s not the only one with special weaponry. Atropos was already losing her patience, feeling that Valkyr’s violent outrage isn’t fast enough at clearing enemies from the way, she holds her hand forward and flinches as it darkens for a split-second. The pitch-black hue oozing out from her open palm vanishes as soon as exactly half of the part of the enemy formation she targeted drops dead. At first, Valkyr gets even more enraged by this, having been stolen a good part of her prey just like that, but this increase in anger only serves to make her work faster, battle faster, and the Corpus barrage keeps decreasing in size while the captain runs out of options. 

His bravery, despite commendable and worth a thousand years of praise, has only gotten more and more soldiers killed without really accomplishing his end goal: To hold the frames until reinforcements arrive to control the situation. He has it clear in his mind too, that all his useless efforts are being watched through the security cameras by the scientists that decided to hide themselves and not join the fight, which admittedly represents almost all of them. He wonders if some of them are throwing terrified mockery while he isn’t there to listen, or perhaps their desperation got to their heads and they’re finally growing some sense and arming themselves up to join the fight. Ultimately, he sighs and keeps fighting, brushing these thoughts out of his mind, they’re all a bunch of cowards anyways, they would never grow a pair and help protect the work of their lives.

In the end, no matter what he tries to do, his men and moa keep going down like flies, it’s not even an even match-up despite the clear difference in numbers. The long, cold corridor quickly turns into a piece of violent art, just like the red-snowy outer grounds, not quite as filled with piles of ravaged corpses, but they’re still all over the place, planted against the walls, lying all over the thinly flooded steel floor. Some time during the big massacre, Valkyr must have calmed down, since there aren’t as many guts, ripped organs and chopped pieces of brain splattered around, but her body count must have still remained in the dozens, while her squadmates kept her protected by shooting down any enemies she skips over that might be a potential threat.

The captain ran away from the massacre after running out of options. The hefty commotion allowed him to get away mostly unharmed, maybe his heavy armor took a bullet or two, but nothing too critical beyond that. Some may call it cowardice, clear hypocrisy in the heat of the moment, but he still doesn’t seem willing to forfeit, no matter how many lives he has to put on the line. Clearly survival instinct has something to do with it, and seeking refuge on the masses also represents part of basic human nature, despite how much danger those few remaining capable soldiers would be getting into. Unfortunately, by this point, the garrison has been reduced to just a few dozen scattered troops, desperately falling back more and more while their hearts drop one by one when they watch their leader retreat right behind them. It’s clear that any effort is futile now.

The Warframes practically have the time of their lives, well, except for Atropos, she still doesn’t seem eager to even show a small glimpse of enjoyment. Aside from her, though, Valkyr proudly looks around to marvel at her own creation, while Umbra nods approvingly and places a hand on her shoulder and Wisp tries to stay away from the gore as much as possible, flinching and fidgeting whenever she thinks she touches or steps on something. Chasing the few remaining Corpus soldiers is no use, they are not a threat anymore, save for their very least true living target, the captain himself. Giving him chase shouldn’t be too hard, but unfortunately, there are still a few Moa walkers deployed and more than ready to stop them right on their tracks, leaving them occupied for just a few more crucial seconds, just about enough for the captain to lose them after getting deep enough inside the semi-intricate labyrinth of rooms and corridors that is the data center’s main level. Now it’s just a matter of getting to the scientists hidden all over the place and talking to them in order to make them join the fight. What they lack in skill they might make up for in numbers, it’s an effort required to buy just enough time for reinforcements to arrive. After all, it’s the work of their lives, they wouldn’t reject protecting something so precious from falling into enemy hands, would they?

Despite being a rather recent addition to the data center roster, his memory is good enough to bring him to the security room, filled with screens broadcasting all the camera feeds placed inside and outside the facility. A good amount of the scientists are there, namely those with higher authority amongst the ranks, it might not be necessary to go talk with the rest if he can coerce this group into joining him, their positions of power alone should be persuasive enough.

The scientists are fast to look away from the screens and place their focus on the panting garrison captain, already feeling panic ignite inside them. Not only did they see it in the cameras they are presencing it now, right in front of their eyes, things didn’t just go horribly wrong, everything clearly indicates they might die horrible deaths and the only ones that could protect them were completely useless against those killing machines. They really badly want to scream their lungs out and plea to the captain for help he might not be able to provide anymore, but nothing could’ve prepared them to hear him say:

“Don’t stare at me like that, Corpus is at stake right now! Will you get your asses up from those seats and come help me or not?!”

Their shock can’t be measured in any capacity, it’s just too great and overwhelming to even fathom. One of them, already at the front and the most eager to respond, stumbles around with his words, ultimately interrupted by the captain:

“Right now, there are four damn Warframes, clearly here to take away the work of your sorry lives, something I would’ve expected you to value a little more! I bet you don’t really get it, those damn things aren’t here to give you presents or anything, they’ve come to kill you, each and every single one of you, and steal your precious research for themselves, research which also happens to be capable of putting Corpus into a somewhat compromising position if they get it, don’t you get it?!”

“S-so what do you want us t-to do?!” One of the scientists asks between stutters as the captain turns his attention towards him. The fear coursing through his brain and down his spine almost makes him fall backwards and crawl away, but he gets tightly grappled by the neck of his suit, as the garrison leader clearly isn’t done with them yet.

“What do you think, if you’re clearly trying to pass off as someone who’s even remotely smart to pretend to be a scientist?” He asks with rising anger, his grip on the poor man’s suit tightening to an almost suffocating degree “I want you to grab a gun lying around, follow me and actually face those things until someone finally arrives to bring some help, it’s just a matter of buying enough time to save all this data!”

The scientists remain reluctant, very protective over their lives, incapable of responding in a satisfying fashion to his bold petition, or rather order. They are no fighters, there is nothing they can physically do unless they are all used as cannon fodder against their will, they would get shredded in seconds, but the captain doesn’t seem to mind this. He finds this fact as a necessary concession, a sacrifice required in order to secure absolute Corpus safety, Profit knows what’s exactly inside all those files that makes even him so afraid of them being seized by the Lotus and her goons, yet that sentiment and need to put their lives at risk isn’t shared by the scientists, most likely due to the clear difference in professions and what they encompass.

Frustration fills the captain’s mind, hefting his heavy machine gun and yelling at workers to go outside, who comply immediately, albeit sheepishly. They saw the Warframes walking downstairs in the camera feeds, they’re definitely going to be there to greet them, and they might be about fifty, with hundreds more hiding inside many other vaults and panic rooms, but that would only represents hundreds of free targets. A single shout echoing through the entire, long hallway is enough to bring all those people out of the chambers, peeking around before turning their sight towards the source of the powerful voice, the commanding captain still eager to use everything available to defend the facility, and now that his new forces have been summoned, he proceeds to move forward, gun in his hands, right to the front of the disoriented multitude. His determination has borne fruit, he has all he needs for his last stand, and with nothing left to lose and everything to gain with this daring move, he sighs and raises the gun to his shoulder, watching as the enemy Warframes reach the bottom of the staircase with eerie calm, almost as if this is just one more casual experience in their lives.

“There you are, we’ve been looking for you all over the place!” Valkyr comments with mock glee, already unleashing her claws for the bloody feast standing right in front of her. Umbra holds her by the shoulder before she can sprint towards them, giving the hundreds of workers at least a few more seconds to live and regret all the life decisions that have brought them to this point.

“In all fairness,” Umbra takes the conversation all for himself “I have to admit that is false. The joy of spilling corrupt corporate blood doesn’t mean we’ve been in search for you, although Valkyr might say otherwise. I don’t blame her, she enjoys this part of her job quite a lot, and rightfully so, if you ask me.”

“You are far more outnumbered than before, do you think you will be able to defeat us all in time?” Asks the captain, with all the defiance he can muster.

“I have to admit, you gave quite the speech up there, even I was impressed.” Umbra continues, clearly ignoring him “You guys were pretty disappointing up there, though, I expected far better from you and those numbers. Are you stretched too thin across all fronts, is the morale low or did you fall out of Profit’s favor or something?”

“Why would we respond to your futile interrogation now?”

“I don’t know, I thought you would appreciate being able to give your last words before getting sent to whatever afterlife. I’m not sure whether Profit will be there to receive you, but we can find that out right now.” Umbra finishes, unsheathing Skiajata and letting the pristine blade reflect the intense lighting of the hallway. The captain still stands defiant aiming his heavy gun directly at his head with fiery eyes under his helmet, pulling an arm up with a finger pointed at the ceiling and shouting te decisive order at the top of his lungs:

“Even if this is our time to perish, we shall hold you back until the rest of Corpus can make you pay! Troops, raise arms!”

This is what could change it all, it’s just them standing in the way between the frames and their objective inside the large data vaults, it’s now or never and all they have to do is resist for at least a couple minutes, holding them back with their combined firepower. They just lacked the numbers and the sheer condensation of bullets up there on the surface, and with everything on the line, they can do this, they have to do this, it’s just a matter of-

Something gets dropped onto the ground. It had a metalling sound and weight to it, and before he can turn around, it happens again, only this time from a farther distance. When his gaze finishes its hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, his eyes instantly widen, his stomach drops, and his heart sinks into the planet’s core. He hears the sound again, and again, and again, while he catches the source on sight. The scientists, those workers he hoped would provide him with help on their last stand, are dropping their assigned weapons one by one, tossing them to the floor and slowly backing away, eventually leaving a clear trail of abandoned weapons and about ten yards of space between them and the now lonely garrison captain. The message couldn’t be any clearer, he’s on his own from now on, as the defenseless mass of workers raise their hands as the Warframes speechlessly point their guns at them, unsure of what’s happening.

“W-what do you bastards think you are doing?!” He questions as desperation starts overwhelming his senses “Are you just going to let the Lotus seize whatever she wants and put all of Corpus at risk, betraying Profit and the Board of Directors along the way?!”

Many of the workers look down in shame, it’s still clear that this isn’t an easy decision for them. However, one of them in the front of the group won’t just stand there in silence:

“W-we don’t have the strength required to serve as proper sacrifice to your cause, Captain, but… We have faith that Profit will bless us and let Corpus rise again from this unfortunate tragedy. We apologize, our lives aren’t valuable enough to be placed as a distraction that could actually serve a greater purpose, but at least justice will be served to us anyhow.”

The captain can’t believe what his ears are catching. This must be treason of the highest degree, and he would punish them himself if he could, but unfortunately, he has more urgent matters currently at hand, reminded by Umbra clearing his throat.

“Well, anyway, with that out of the way, time to finally attend the main subject matter. Valkyr, could you do me the honour?”

The valkyrie frame nods eagerly, crossing her arms in an x-shape and displaying her razor-sharp claws, more than ready to finish the job. The captain won’t go down without a fight, though, raising his weapon and ready to greet her incoming charge not with open arms, but with an entire magazine of bullets unloaded at her face.

Almost in slow-motion, the showdown finally begins, as Valkyr charges while feinting from side to side, dodging most of the barrages the garrison leader sends towards her. The scientists, true to their word, remain static, while the three other frames stand there, holding them from doing anything sudden or stupid by keeping their guns aimed at their heads. Some stray bullets manage to land on the guarding frames, barely making a dent on their shields but nothing else beyond that while Valkyr’s charge keeps getting fiercely defied, as more and more barrages continue depleting her own defenses.

Just five mere seconds pass and they’re already face to face, allowing Valkyr to smack the gun off his hands and seemingly leave him at her mercy. He’s not going down just yet, though, as he reaches down to the side of his belt and unsheathes a combat knife, immediately brandishing it enough times to land hits that finish off her shields. She doesn’t just stand there doing nothing, however, answering with some slashes of her own with her claws, breaking through the captain’s own layer of shields. Nothing stands between them now, it’s only a matter of who can land enough shots in the right places, and it’s clear that the loser won’t be making it out of this alive.

“Uh, I think she needs our help…” Wisp comments with worry, taking a step forward before being halted by Umbra, who holds her in place before she can move any further.

“Let her have her fun.” Umbra calmly tells her “Don’t worry about her, she knows what she’s doing.”

Although his words are enough to keep her from intervening, they do little to quell her nervousness, as she keeps watching Valkyr and the captain from afar, trying to rip each other’s limbs off and so far having little success at it. Valkyr’s armor so far has just shallow cuts, marks and dents, while the captain’s suit is in far worse condition, although this doesn’t make him any less limber.

Instead of a messy showdown, like anyone would’ve expected from an encounter Valkyr’s involved, the two current duelists keep circling around each other, with a dozen calculated moves before each attempt at a hit, keeping impeccable footwork as a strong display of their sheer talent in the art of warfare. However, no amount of ability will be able to give the captain a clear edge, when the Warframe he’s facing is physically superior to him in all senses, forcing him to remain in the defensive the whole time, only able to fight back when his opponent leaves herself open for a stab or slash that do nothing. Meanwhile, Valkyr keeps playing with her prey without him being aware, she’s barely letting him think he has a chance, give him false hope she can then proceed to shatter in an instant, putting near zero effort in moving from side to side, paying the bare minimum of attention to his moves, and most insulting of all, hiding a yawning grin under her helmet as the captain keeps fighting with increasingly reckless desperation.

His efforts, albeit commendable, ultimately just fall short, being a product of human prowess, but that’s about it, just human. No amount of struggle will bear fruit when it comes from a regular person, facing a being literally created and trained with the sole purpose of killing things. His hope sinks even further when he sees her speed up drastically, making him take more and more steps back trying not to lose balance. The workers back away too, keeping a consistent amount of distance from him, as they watch him slip off his feet at least a couple times, when the pressure proves to be too much.

Unfortunately for him, his horror pays off, when he feels a sharp, acute sting right under his right wrist, and his arm suddenly feels somewhat lighter too. Glancing down, his eyes widens, and his frantic, gasping pants for oxygen get abruptly interrupted by his shock, when he finds nothing beyond his wrist, and a detached, bloody hand, still holding the combat knife, just a couple feet to the left. Completely defenseless, he gets kicked to the ground by an amused Valkyr, who stops hiding her joy and stifles a laugh when she observes him crawling away from her. The big, open wound where his hand once was leaves a thick trail of blood behind, the captain still doesn’t fully register the true extent of the pain he should experience from losing an entire part of his arm, adrenaline keeps obstructing the pain receptors of his brain with an overflow of shock and panic. Death itself has come knocking at his door, and it’s staring him down, it knows these are his final moments, but he’s not going to let it take him without giving his last words:

“Come on, slay me, you fiend! Do it already, but I warn you, many more will come after you, we will learn from our mistakes, and the weak will be punished with blood as cold as the winter storm! Profit won’t forgive this mistake, we are obligated to make up for all our errors, and you, you Tenno scum and your intrusion will be a stain in our history logs that will not only never wash away, it will also serve as the mould for our forces moving forward, this massive catastrophe will become our ultimate piece of atonement, and we will teach you to dread this day with passion you don’t even hold for your beloved Lotus!”

“Oh, shut up, you corporate piece of crap!” Valkyr scoffs wrathfully, clawing the helmet off his head and exposing his pale, horrified face. The great garrison captain that once proudly led a brave defense now sits at her mercy, and she has none for Corpus, staring into his eyes for just a second before violently flailing her claws at his face over and over again, leaving him more and more unrecognizable as face features fly all over the place, and soon his skull is the next victim, quickly turned into fragments of bone, and the brain gets beaten into a shapeless pile of flesh, right before she keeps clawing further down his body. 

It barely takes her under a minute to turn the captain’s body into a scene from a horror movie, but by the time she’s finishes and staggers back up to her feet, his head is just a fleshy bowl of useless blood and flesh, his ribcage and its contents are non-existent, splattered all over the floor around him, and his upper and lower abdomen are separated from each other, the intestines lying lifelessly on the cold, hard steel floor and spilling bile and other bodily fluids, a repulsive stench permeating the entire hallway almost right away. At least everything under the belt was left intact, for whatever that’s worth.

The workers just stare down at whatever is left of the poor man in pure terror, still uncertain of whether the same will happen to them or not. However, looking at Valkyr as she quickly calms down and comes back to her senses gives them enough reassurance for them to speak again:

“W-we surrender!” One of them yells, still filled with fear “You can enter our vaults and take all you need, just let us live, that’s all we really want!”

The frames remain taken aback, unsure of how to handle this turnout of events. It’s clearly a rare sight to see Corpus workers, let alone this many, forfeit for the sake of their own lives. Umbra, still somewhat surprised, slowly raises his hand and opens a call with the Lotus, still keeping an eye on them to make sure they don’t make any sudden moves. It’s not like they would dare do something so reckless, when they have two frames pointing guns at them, and a third one covered in blood, standing right in front of them.

“Umbra?” Lotus asks, answering the call “What is it, Tenno?”

“Ah, uh, well, uhm, you see, we, uh, came across this crowd of Corpus scientists and workers, and they, uh… They surrendered?”

Even the Lotus appears surprised in the call, making even more of a stronger statement of just how rare this sight truly is. She eventually shakes off her shock and nods understandingly, although Umbra can still notice hints of conflict in her expression.

“They… surrendered…” She slowly says, still trying to process what she’s just been told.

“I’m just as confused as you are right now, Lotus, don’t worry.”

“How many are they?”

“About three hundred right here.” Valkyr answers from a distance.

“A-and a thousand and a half more spread and scattered all across the center!” One of the workers yells, nearly raising the frames’ alarms. One wrong move and he would’ve been shot down right there and then.

“What are we going to do with them, Lotus?” Umbra asks with slightly raising worry.

“We will figure out something later. For now, focus on the mission, I assume everything else is under control.”

Umbra nods as a confirmation, still looking suspiciously at the workers. A sight they don’t get to see everyday, as it seems.

“All of you, stay here.” He commands the mass of defenseless civilians “We’re going into the data vaults to get what we need. We will ask for your help only if we need it, but until then, you will stay still and not do anything silly, understood?”

All the workers that get to hear his words nod nervously. Satisfied, Umbra walks into the nearest data vault, not too far from there, followed by Atropos, as Wisp and Valkyr stay behind to keep the massive Corpus crowd under control. The vault itself still looks quite intact, all computers, systems and monitors still on, and no power cells removed from it.

“We should be able to access all the data from here.” Umbra points out, grabbing a nearby holo-keyboard and scrolling through all the logs, entries and documents. “Somewhere in here, there should be information about that massive project Corpus needs all those dockyards for, and perhaps we can discover the locations of the next construction sites along the way.”

Atropos nods absent-mindedly to everything he says, focusing on her own browsing through another computer. Thus far, she hasn’t found anything she would find even remotely noteworthy, which isn’t saying much, considering how little she cares about anything in general aside from that strange journal. The search proves to be long and tedious for both of them; for better or for worse, those damn workers have put entire lifetimes of effort into archiving literally anything written, witnessed, recorded or registered, and although fortunately there are plenty of things that are missing, the contents still remain eerily thorough.

“Lotus almighty, I think we’ll need keywords to find what we need here.” Umbra admits, sighing with frustration “I’ll go outside and interrogate the workers a bit, you keep searching for anything odd.”

Umbra walks out of the room, leaving Atropos alone with her own thoughts and mischiefs. What she never stated, but always kept in mind, was the true reason for her to come to this otherwise unremarkable mission for her, and the keyword idea is all she needed to get it done. Abandoning her previous search that served as a decoy, she starts putting all the words she can relate to the lengthy, mysterious journal only she’s been able to read for so long, hoping one of them lands her in the right spot. “Journal”, “Entry”, “Diary”, “Translated”, all of them give her plenty of results, but none of them are what she seeks, and her time is limited. More and more keywords, and none of them get her where she wants to be… Until she thinks of a very stupid idea in hindsight, and decides to try with her own name, Atropos.

Unsurprisingly, dozens of documents and articles about her come up right away, mostly just scientific essays and reports by those that must have been studying and taking care of her while she was still dormant inside her cryopod. However, there’s also a particular document, already looking bigger than the rest, with a very unique title: “Subject Atropos, Squad Composition and Ancient Orokin Guerrilla Tactics During the Old War”.

She skips reading the author’s name entirely, jumping right into the actual contents of the long document, struck by a familiar sight right from the start. A sketch, very carefully drawn and detailed, of her still inside the pod. The level of accuracy achieved in the drawing puts her off just a little bit, yet manages to spark her interest even further. Thoroughly hooked in, she turns her attention to the actual written part of the document, caught by pretty basic, but still familiar information, such as her height, physical description and personal background, which admittedly seems very scarce. It’s still information she didn’t know, however, likely from even before her first awakening.

Everything that happened between her first awakening and her second slumber, she remembers all of it quite vividly. It was a very brief period of time, probably no more than two weeks, and she doesn’t remember who woke her up, but it gave her the chance to fight Corpus for the very first time, an older version of the faction, probably two centuries ago. Her task was short and the outcome wasn’t that relevant to the grander scheme of things, but it gave her a first taste of things to come, even though it took over two hundred years for her to come back into action. She never managed to remember anything from before that short period of time, not until now, with this short feed of information right in front of her.

That is nowhere near being it, however, as scrolling down bombards her with even further information, that manages to bring an unpleasant, familiar sensation: Pain. Acute headache, a strong migraine that only invades her mind whenever she tries to remember anything about her past, and this time it’s even stronger. What’s most abnormal is the cause of this pain, a name she barely pays attention to, merely glancing over it before looking at the rest of the document…

Dragunov.

At first glance, it shouldn’t be anything special, yet it still manages to be so directly harmful to her head in a way she didn’t think could be possible. Furthermore, it’s barely just a name, there are still a few unchecked paragraphs that seem to be directly associated with this name’s owner, whoever it might be. For the very first time, Atropos hesitates to look at the rest of the text, perhaps afraid of what effects might be there, waiting for her to just a read a tad further and unearth another painful piece of information, but in the end, she perseveres, there’s no way something as small and ridiculous as just a bunch of text is going to stop her.

Although the subject “Dragunov” lacks a description or a drawn example of their physical appearance, his background and history are somewhat detailed and heavily reviewed, probably the product of years, if not a couple decades of investigation from at least a dozen different experts. The text states that they were a very prominent, high-ranking member of the Warframe forces in the ancient Orokin era, but didn’t interact much with previously made frames, only those that formed part of the same batch as them, also known as “GEN II”.

“So that’s what… GEN II means…” Atropos mutters to herself before continuing. Subject Dragunov also seemed to be the leader of a purposefully obscure spec-ops squad, whose name has been lost to time and dilution of the already pretty scarce records, but the same can’t be said about its members. For now, it’s stated as just a theory based on all the evidence the scientists have gathered, not even taking into consideration how warped, tweaked and modified all the information they’ve found might be from the original documents from millennia ago. However, the arguments still look solid enough, and that only seems to be just part of the long essay, as there’s way more about two more subjects when she scrolls down a little more. But before she can proceed any further, her heart skips a beat when her eyes accidentally catch a particular title that for some reason sends shockwaves down her spine: Great Dragunov. Curious and appalled, she gives that specific sentence a read:

_ “All the scattered information we’ve been able to gather, patch up together and make a cohesive piece of historical archive with, has lead us to believe that Great Dragunov, the title most records we’ve found have shown was the preferred title for this individual, was so obscure, so well hidden along with the rest of his team, that they barely made it into the history records of that time, which explains most of the difficulties we had while trying to find data about them and their possible squadmates.” _

That title remains stuck on her head, rendering her unable to think about anything else until she finds what’s so intimately entangled with it that has forced her mind to give it top priority against her own will. She can’t focus too much on this inner scavenger hunt, though, she thinks she’s just heard Umbra finish his interrogation outside, he’ll be coming back into the vault in just a few seconds, setting off her panic and making her download the heavy file into her inbox as quickly as possible, pressing keys again and again, futilely hoping that will speed up the process.

Somehow, that gets the job done, and she receives the crucial notification right as Umbra turns around and looks at her, slightly puzzled.

“Did I miss anything while I was away?” He asks her with suspecting curiosity.

“N-no, I just got frustrated, I haven’t been able to find anything useful.”

“In general or it’s just that you’ve deemed things useless under your definition?”

The glare she gives him can almost be felt through her helmet, but she just shrugs and keeps searching through the files, pretending nothing ever happened. That damn title, Great Dragunov, hasn't left her mind yet, so she decides to sneakily open the document and keep reading whilst pretending to browse through the databases, it shouldn’t be too hard to pull off.

The pain kicks in once again when the file opens, leaving her right at the last part she read. Seeming as if there’s not much else to unravel about Dragunov, she chooses to skip the rest of the description and jump right into the next subject. 

The second individual’s name is disclosed as Dux, and just like Dragunov, they have no physical description or depiction, and most of the background and history offered about them stays intimately related to Dragunov too, probably a sign of how little has been written about them or how close and loyal they were to them and the Orokin during the days of the Old War. There’s something else, however, a particular set of details that brings out an unexpected reaction from her, and they’re all directly related to her.

The description not only mentions her name a few times, it also establishes her as a member of this ancient team whose leader was this Dragunov individual, and this unnerves her greatly, something she didn’t expect at all. She’s not quite sure why her inner self is so troubled by these details, but before she can keep wondering what’s going on, Umbra snaps her out of her trance.

“By the way, you should use the keyword ‘dread’, it will get you where you need to be.” He tells her as he continues his search “The workers were surprisingly very helpful for this, I’ll make sure Valkyr lets them live after this is over, although I don’t know how they’re going to handle the punishment they might face.”

Once he’s done, she tries to do so as he said, just so that he won’t be constantly annoying her, but a thought suddenly crosses her mind, impactful enough to stop everything she’s doing for a moment that feels eternal. It’s not about the document she’s just read, it’s not about the secrets contained in it, it’s what it all means to her, because it’s all too well connected for it to just be a coincidence.

And then there’s the journal, that damn, stupidly cryptic journal, and right now, the speed at which all of it is coming together makes her head hurt so much stronger than ever before, almost bringing her to her knees, but somehow, she manages to keep herself together and remain quiet not to attract Umbra’s attention Still, it’s no damn surprise anymore that she was the only one able to actually read the language the journal was written without needing to translate it, it was already obvious that something was up, but with this information, it couldn’t be any clearer.

“That should be about enough.” Umbra says, withdrawing from the monitor and patting Atropos on the shoulder “Come on, you’ve been searching for minutes, it’s time to go back to Fortuna.”

Minutes? She remained lost in her thoughts for minutes without her noticing? How surprising it turns out for her that the headache was intense enough to make her lose her notion of time, but one problem at a time, she closes her screens before Umbra can notice anything weird and follows him out of the room.

“As for you guys,” Umbra concludes with the workers “We cannot guarantee your safety, that would be madness, but we still wish you the best. 

“I don’t know how many of you believe in the Lotus’ blessings,” Valkyr jumps in to add one final thing herself “but at least I hope you can accept them from us. Farewell.”

The sigh of relief many of the workers let out when she turns around and starts following Umbra out of there doesn’t go unnoticed, as she briefly glances over her shoulder and finger-guns them for a final goodbye.

“At least not all Corpus are brainwashed idiots.” She mutters to herself, filled with newfound hope for them. 

And as far as Atropos is concerned, the slaughter didn’t matter all that much, but she certainly has a lot to think about and read through when she gets back to Fortuna, she’s finally got the true identity of those people mentioned inside that stupid journal, and she’s going to have the time of her life getting through it. It might be a lot to unravel, but one thing at a time, right?

A quick yelp from Wisp attracts their attention, ready to react to whatever might be after her.

“I-it’s nothing, I just stepped on someone’s organs.” She says embarrassed, and at least she can be glad that’s going to be it for the time being. One thing at a time indeed, even including simple reactions, but for this place, everything is over, and there will be a ton to unpack when they get back to the Lotus, a ton that, as the captain said before perishing, they might possibly regret.


	17. XVI: Of Dukes and Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lengthy read through many of the entries in subject GD's journal, unveiling another side of a past just as sinister as it is obscure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell, this one took forever to make and publish, mainly thanks to several internet/college issues I had to put up with. Regardless, I still hope you enjoy it.

_ Day 57, Entry N°33: A headache and beyond, shattered dreams and hopes, a heartbreaking return to cruel static, and my ass sitting in the winter storm, are the rewards I get for my hard efforts to contact D, A, T, or anyone else, to get me out of this cold, miserable refuge, as it slowly gets buried deeper and deeper into the thickening snow. Destiny, what a cruel harlot you are, and Fate, how little you care about being partly controlled by my loyal A, that you have both brought me to this hell and given me false, short-lived hope before reminding me that I’ll remain stuck here until you’re satisfied with my pain. If you only hadn't given me that open, functional channel to lay all my expectations upon, I wouldn’t be cursing you right now for taking it away from me as soon as it appeared. You will pay, for my servitude towards you shan’t be eternal, and I’ll be a free man once again, and you’ll beg for me to come back to you, like you’ve always done with all your other children. _

_ Day 59, Entry N°34: I have lost count of how many mock shooting stars have descended through the unforgiving, yet still breathtaking sky ceiling mine and many others’ souls, such a cruel reminder of the fight that I can’t partake in while I stay down here. How many of them have been fallen comrades, perishing to the heat of the descent? How many have been those disgusting, repulsive machines losing their precious integrity and finally dancing with the dead, something their synthetic selves would have never thought they would end up doing? How many could I have taken down myself, to spare all these worlds from the damnation they wish to bestow upon us mere mortals? I wish you aren’t among them, A, I wish you are still the deathbringer they deserve. _

_ Day 63, Entry N°35: Gods save us all, earlier today, I saw yet another one of our almighty battleships perish, fracture into two and burst into flames as the atmosphere delivered her scorching, deadly embrace. Around twelve thousand innocent men must have lost their lives, these chrome-heart beasts do not possess mercy written anywhere in their supposedly perfect code. I wish with all my strength I could be up there and serve as one of the heroes we need to survive. _

_ Day 65, Entry N°36: I caught another open channel. I can’t write much right now, I’m trying to contact whatever may be on the other side. _

_ Day 65, Entry N°36-2: The poor bastard could barely handle the communications, he told me his ship was going to crash down into a frozen lake and sink, but I could still hear everything burning around him. It looks like there is going to be some scavenging to do tomorrow. _

_ Day 66, Entry N°37: I couldn’t stay out in the open for too long, I had to move and act quickly, and the ship missed the lake and crashed on a nearby hill. I was only able to get a few pieces of junk and some parts I might be able to use to repair or even enhance my signal. Perhaps I can use some of the burnt metal to make a proper roof, so I can stop wiping the snow off my helmet. _

_ Day 68, Entry N°38: At last, I can rest somewhat more safely, knowing I’m covered by a makeshift roof, and I don’t have to endure the winter directly anymore. The many broken parts I found still lie scattered on the ground, while I keep trying to identify a way to use them effectively. It will take a while, but it seems I have no other choice. _

_ Day 71, Entry N°39: As I was occupying myself with the hefty upgrades to my means of communication, I picked up another channel, thinking it would just be as hopeless or disheartening as all previous occasions. I was thankfully wrong. Of all people that could have been trying to contact me, my graceful ally, D, blessed me with his voice through the call, and told me he would come here in a couple of days after I gave him my coordinates. It should be just a matter of time now, I may start making all the preparations for his arrival. _

_ Day 72, Entry N°40: I still cannot help but think about the possible fate of A, but I couldn’t ask D about her status in the middle of the call, our time was limited and the signal made things even more complicated. I hope she’s having fun up there, and hasn’t grown any wings of fire yet, unlike all those ships that have fallen from the sky, she might easily be one of our greatest, more important war assets right now, and there are many things those frames made before us could learn not only from her, but from us as a working collective. We are the ideal group, otherwise, we wouldn’t have been personally picked to be the spec-ops unit during this hellish conflict. _

_ Day 73, Entry N°41: D has finally arrived, landing his ship just a few hundred feet from my current position. He only brought himself, his weapons and a thorough debriefing of an unhealthy amount of issues ahead of us. At least I can rest peacefully, knowing A is safe, but T’s status and whereabouts are unfortunately unknown. Our battle will truly never end, not until we are all reunited again, be it here or in the afterlife. _

_ Day 74, Entry N°41-2: D has given me a lengthy explanation of everything we have to deal with for the next few days, if not longer. Right away, we start massively handicapped, he told me it’s safer to stay on the ground for the time being, we won’t be able to take off for a while if we want to remain alive. That’s not it, however, the space battle that has been taking place right above me all this time has slowly, but steadily been turning more and more into a tragedy, rather than a proper contest of might. The casualties are said to have risen to millions, and that only takes military losses into consideration, and those damn machines keep pressing on with a tenacity even I would envy. Our men have started to adopt scorched earth tactics, to leave nothing behind that those things could use to repair or enhance themselves, but that means once this is all over, plenty of men, women and children will not have anywhere to return, anywhere they could call home. _

_ Day 75, Entry N°42: I have been told that BG and AB are still alive, but in very different situations. While BG proudly leads the scorched earth campaign in our largest cities and colonies, AB unfortunately couldn’t join him. Her body didn’t fully accept the treatment, and she washed out, became useless to our cause, and her failure has caused the entire expected third batch of reinforcements to be cancelled. She hasn’t woken up ever since, it has been over a month and she still lies dormant, comfortable in her abode, while her brother does all the heavy work, because she was too weak to join him. At this rate, we will never be enough to contain this nightmare. _

_ Day 76, Entry N°43: D has recommended we get moving as soon as possible, and from then on we should remain in constant advance, never staying in one single place for too long. As soon as I’m finished upgrading my communications system and making it portable, we’re heading east, towards the more discrete zones of the region where we can call for help and reinforcements without putting them in any danger. It will be a shame to have to leave our ships behind, but we have no choice. _

_ Day 78, Entry N°44: Still busying myself with all this heavy work, unable to leave the area until I’m finished with this thing. However, those damn sentient pieces of metal are starting to send ground forces into the surface, and we had the undesired opportunity to fight against one of those things. It was extremely tough, a true test of our skills, we never thought they would send heavy units to such a remote location, but alas, we were forced to lead that stupid glorified piece of junk unto a ditch and finish it off from there. At least we have plenty of spare parts just in case we need them before we leave now. _

_ Day 80, Entry N°45: I would say we couldn’t be any more prepared than this. My repairs and upgrades for the communication system are done, ready to be carried around and activated anywhere in these snow fields, and all the ammunition and equipment D brought down here with himself should last us a few weeks before running out or malfunctioning. Whatever else is thrown our way, we will be ready, and they will pay the highest price. _

_ Day 81, Entry N°46: First day out of shelter and into the vast, open plains of winter Venus. I would have loved to cherish this precious, delicate white curtain and flooring bathing me in cold and softness under more controlled circumstances, but right now, she’s unfortunately just one more hazard we have to face in order to survive. At least A isn’t here, bombarding us with her eternal myriad of complaints about the weather, something I definitely would like to see her change when this is all over. _

_ Day 84, Entry N°47: After four days of freezing, tiresome trekking through these unforgiving fields, we have come across a chasm, a long passage right between two very tall cliffs that seem to be even more relentless with their hails. The natural corridor up ahead doesn’t seem as treacherous as we would normally expect, but it’s still too good of a place to tend the perfect ambush for me to feel comfortable stepping in. However, everything indicates this is our fastest route to the clearings we need to reach in order to get evacuated from here. I can only hope A doesn’t miss us too much right now. _

_ Day 85, Entry N°48: If a place looks perfect for an ambush, it’s pretty much guaranteed to happen, and that’s exactly what just happened to us halfway through crossing this damn passage. I would have rather dealt with an avalanche, a landslide, anything that doesn’t involve us getting bombarded with rounds of molten metal from above. Those glorified pieces of clockwork, I never thought they would leave artillery units in the middle of nowhere, just in case someone was daring enough to cross this narrow passage, and that someone had to be us. We made it out alive and mostly unharmed, but the mess that was left behind ensures there is no coming back from this for us. _

_ Day 85, Entry N°48-2: D has found plenty of time in this long journey to keep conversing with me as we keep moving, this damn passage feels almost infinite. He can’t shut up about A and how beautiful and wonderful he finds her, and how much he wishes they could be an item once this war is over. Reliable, this guy definitely is, but maybe this is a sign of growing delusion in his mind, I hope I can keep his feet on the ground, before A does it herself with a scolding and a punch to the gut. _

_ Day 87, Entry N°49: We finally made it out of that ridiculously long chasm, just a few minutes shy from getting caught up in a heavy storm. At the very least it should serve to cover our tracks from whatever might be either foolish or daring enough to think it can match up to our Warframe might. D tried to start a fire, I almost laughed when I saw him fail at least a dozen times to just create friction with those two rocks, maybe the urge not to freeze to death hasn’t gone full force in his mind just yet or his hands are too slippery, for him to put his all into it and give us a chance to stay alive. Frightening, yet still amusing at the end of this cold day. _

_ Day 88, Entry N°50: At last, after all this time transcurred and distance travelled, we have arrived at our fateful destination, but the area isn’t completely clear from hostiles just yet. There’s going to be some cleaning up to do before we can call a cab and join the fight up there again. _

_ Day 88, Entry N°50-2: Things didn't quite go as planned. We managed to slaughter plenty of those chrome-hearted beasts and throw the few that were left away from our position, but in the process, D had to pretend to be such a big hero, despite A not being around to impress her or anything, and he took a few ones to the leg. Luckily, they weren’t chemical rounds, his tissue won’t melt away, but they were still molten titanium, rapidly burning flesh and boiling his bloodstream. It’s not going to be a safe bet to try and pull out these projectiles right now, not when the winter is at its strongest point and we need to find shelter before anything else once again. Our evacuation will have to wait. _

_ Day 89, Entry N°51: Several Sentient ships are traversing the area, heavily bombarding it with high-end explosives powerful enough to blast an Orokin destroyer out of the sky. The nearby soil has turned into a nightmarish sight I’m sure BG would’ve loved to see with his very own eyes. It’s clear that the enemy knows we are here, and they’re after our blood. _

_ Day 90, Entry N°52: I never thought I would be trapped down here in this freezing planet, imprisoned by the ruthlessness of the nearly eternal maelstrom plaguing the goddess of love’s surface, for already three entire months up to this very day, and things have only kept getting worse during my absence. Orokin should be mightier than this, not relying so heavily on my might, but it seems without me, this fleet will just keep falling apart little by little. _

_ Day 91, Entry N°53: D hasn’t stopped complaining about his wounds and how much they hurt. The bullets ended up cooling down, so I was able to remove them safely, yet he couldn’t stop but groan and suffer like a weakling through the whole process, and somehow he’s still agonizing for injuries that have been already treated. At this rate, he won’t be able to make it through with so little endurance. _

_ Day 92, Entry N°54: The ground hasn’t stopped burning in the last two days. Whatever substance those machines have chosen to lay waste and scorch anything standing in their way, it’s working, and it must be doing wonders for them out there. This evacuation is only going to meet more and more obstacles the longer we wait, they should better hurry. _

_ Day 95, Entry N°55: The past three days have caught both of us off-guard, given how uneventful they turned out to be. Still, even under these conditions, we can hear just about anything through our comm lines, the desperate pleas of mercy and cries for help from thousands, if not millions of desperate soldiers as their skin melts with the fiery descent of their heavily damaged shipcraft into the atmosphere. I would expect anyone else to be haunted by having to hear all those screaming men in the middle of the night, but alas, this is our lives now, how unfortunate is it that we can’t save them all. _

_ Day 96, Entry N°56: Evac units are starting to be prepared to be escorted into the surface by a heavy convoy, but such a maneuver will obviously take some time, just to gather the ships and get them into a formation without the Sentient up there finding out. Damn you, A, if only you were down here with us, you could have blessed us with your lucky control of fate to bring us back to the fight, and we wouldn’t have to endure this cold misery any longer. _

_ Day 97, Entry N°57: Both D and I are sure we heard a sizable explosion outside, not a product of a heavy object making its way against the cold hard surface, but rather an actual projectile. Somehow those machines have been programmed to grow impatient too, that is just delightful for our plans, but we can’t get out just yet if this carpet bombing continues. _

_ Day 97, Entry N°57-2: We are currently under siege. Those things had to bring two entire cohorts to our position, blocking our only means of escape, and they keep firing more and more explosives to the entrance of our bare refuge. We aren’t low on supplies, but we are outnumbered four hundred to one and their robotic determination will make it near impossible to make them rout. Our Warframe strength won’t get us out of this mess. _

_ Day 98, Entry N°58: How lucky have we been, that the siege was fazed and broken by our so expected convoy, arriving at the most opportune of moments, and now the ones facing scorching hell are our metallic foes. Our transports are ready to go, we just have to pick our things up and get them in there. D is taking care of getting everything into the ship while I register all of this here in this journal. I will not divide this entry into subentries, I’ll just do normal paragraphs, since we were told some things and this might be rather long. _

_ A isn’t doing too well up there. No matter how many wonders or miracles she manages to pull off up there, she still keeps losing men, space control and her own health. She has been fighting nonstop for the last four months, without a single day to catch a break. She’s lost a great deal of her passion, her willpower has greatly diminished without us up there to keep her going, and she has turned just as cold and miserable as the freezing surface of this planet. I can only hope she can hold on until we are back in the fight. _

_ We have already lost one third of our colonies here in Venus, with very few successful evacuation attempts. The numbers aren’t too exact yet, plenty of people has been reported as missing, survivors are still being found wandering around, trying their best to stay alive; guerrilla forces are forming all over the planet, and many ruins we thought were desolate and inhospitable are still being inhabited by some poor souls that know no better. Nevertheless, the theorized casualty count on just Venus alone sits at the tens of millions of civilians, and the military losses aren’t any better, they are actually far worse. The army has lost many numbers in all fronts, but Venus’ weather in particular has been brutal with us, costing us the lives of our brave footmen well over the hundred million mark, and the navy, despite not suffering as heavy deaths, has lost a sizable portion of their fleets. No matter how many Sentient we manage to shoot down from the sky, many more will just come and take their place, a luxury we don’t have for ourselves, and thus we’ve lost hundreds, if not thousands of ships that have slowly warped the pristine image of the frozen surface into a hellish, partially burnt landscape. _

_ We can still succeed, however. Where the Orokin army crumbles and falls apart, the Warframes will rise up and fight for those who don’t stand a chance. The Sentient might be destroying our civilization with ease, except wherever us frames are stationed and more than ready to combat their lust for destruction. Thus, it is imperative for both of us, me and D, to return to the main battle as soon as possible, to clear out all hostiles from the skies above our heads once and for all. A might be falling into a downward spiral of misery, but her roaring success cannot be ignored, serving as the thunderous testament of what we can do to change the course of this war when we find the proper opportunity to show these machines what kind of hell we can give them. _

_ For now, it’s just a matter of joining the fight again, and as I was writing, D got our things into the ship. We’ll be leaving tomorrow, however, the weather is worsening, making it very difficult for us to take off safely into space. We are currently sitting next to a heater, the first signs of warmth I’ve felt in months, it feels strange, unexpectedly alien at this point. Fate bless me like you bless A, my unnerving shan’t prove a sign of things to come. _

_ Day 99, Entry N°59: And just as we thought we would go back to our battle stations, just as we thought there was still some hope left, just as we thought A would see us again and her happiness would spark up, break through her increasingly cold heart and reignite her passion for battle to bring these people a glimpse of salvation, doom had to come, without even knocking at our door, and remind us that indeed, we’ve lost, and there’s nothing else to it. _

_ The evac ships, they now lie useless, burning pieces of junk, with massive holes torn through their hulls and all their crew dead. Fate, you cruel bitch, have you betrayed A to bring us down like this? We have lost all the means of communication we had, and now we are completely trapped, with this rising pillar of smoke as our only chance left for someone to come down here, find us if we are still alive, and get us where we need to be if Orokin expects to survive. _

_ I wonder how long we are going to be able to withstand you, Venus, and your tenacity to bring us down, aided by the horrors of war or not. _

_ Day 101, Entry N°60: D hasn’t stopped looking at the stars since last night. He only takes his gaze off the sky when I tell him something. He must really miss A, and I don’t blame him, times like these remind us of how valuable each other’s company was. There are still zero signs of anyone finding us among this rubble, and the smoke is starting to die down. Time is running out for us and our possibilities. _

_ Day 105, Entry N°61: An ear-deafening sonic boom parted the clouds and thundered across the entire region, and when we raised our heads, an Orokin battlecruiser had been destroyed, with the few remaining scraps and parts falling down upon us like the saddest meteor shower. D’s spirit clearly dropped when he saw this, and I guess it’s going to be even more disheartening when we start looking through the ruins tomorrow. _

_ Day 106, Entry N°62: I am uncertain where I should begin with this. _

_ The rubble wasn’t as sparse or fragmented as we thought, that might be a good sign, but the wasteland was too large for us to search through in just one day. What we did manage to find, however… _

_ D has stayed silent ever since we came back to the refuge. He’s still holding that piece of metal in his hands, occasionally giving it one more glance, and to the name engraved into it. _

_ Galea. Galea was the name of the ship, and this wouldn’t matter in the slightest if we both didn’t know A was supposed to be serving her duty inside that ship. We checked all over the rubble, we couldn’t find any survivors, and most of the corpses we found were completely incinerated while the rest were splattered all over the snow. A is a Warframe, that cannot be put into question, but I doubt one of us could survive an explosion and impact of such magnitude. Fate, have you just betrayed your beloved, loyal A too? What have we and Orokin done to deserve this cruel demise? Our defiance will be your atonement for your crimes. _

_ Day 107, Entry N°63: D didn’t come with me to the crash site this time, he stayed in the refuge, sitting on the snow and meditating while still not letting go of that chunk of metal. In the meantime, I managed to find the massive navigation board, with its systems still intact for the most part, and disarm the comms system from the main computer. It’s still quite heavy, it might take me some extra time to just bring this to our abode compared to the rest of our trips, but if everything goes right, I will be able to get us back in contact with the remaining forces up there, if there are even any left, given how quickly they’re getting wiped out. _

_ Day 109, Entry N°64: A lightning storm could be heard thundering in the distance this morning, not too different from the constant banging of artillery hitting the freezing soil of this goddess of love that has now turned into our prison. We are at her mercy, and D doesn’t want to accept we might perish, he still thinks we are invincible. On the battlefield? Absolutely, but in the midst of Venus’ unforgiving rage? We are just as helpless as a newborn away from their mother’s arms. He hasn’t spoken much since he found that piece of scrap, he only peeps out of the refuge to ask if the comms system is ready to boot up. _

_ Unfortunately, it isn’t. I can’t make it work easily, sure, but that won’t take away the sheer amount of time it will require, just to fix the more mangled up parts and contact anyone that might still be up there. I can’t be too optimistic, however, most of the fleet has been shot down already, and all that’s left might not survive long enough to get us out of here. I will engross myself fully with repairing this thing, I don’t think I’ll write anything until it’s finished. _

_ Day 118, Entry N°65: Alas, cruel Fate, that you have taken away your beloved companion A to satisfy your caprice, but you weren’t satisfied and decided to clip our wings of salvation, destroy our hammer and shield, bathe the sky in melting red and scorching gray, garnish the product of the devastation you have caused with blood and snow, and leave us confined in the vastness of Venus’ cruelty, a seemingly eternal reminder of how helpless we are. _

_ At the very least, we can start contacting people again, and with a far more powerful machine this time. I need to start configuring encrypted signals, in order to attempt and receive calls without the Sentient getting in the way. The original ship this thing came from had an encryption system built up on the main computer, not directly into the communication systems, so I’ll have to improvise. _

_ Day 121, Entry N°66: Good news and worrisome news alike have treated me these past three days. _

_ The good side of things allowed me to successfully create a new encryption system with some reverse engineering and rearranging a signal jammer I had to get from the Galea’s wreckage, I used it to try and pick up any contact I could get from above, and it worked incredibly well. _

_ Now, for the less positive side of affairs, the fleet is still heavily involved in combat, unavailable to pick us up at the moment. Furthermore, just in case that wasn’t enough, our current location isn’t ideal for a rescue, and our best and only choice is to move out of here and travel to a zone where the risk of the ships getting carpet bombed upon descending is nullified. _

_ We’ve been given just about the right location to get out of this frozen, scorching hell. It’s going to be a long, dreadful walk uphill until we reach the ruins of an abandoned settlement, currently reduced to nothing but scraps. The location is expected to be completely desolate, perfect to not raise suspicion from our enemies. _

_ Day 122, Entry N°67: I woke up to blurred vision and ringing ears, dozens of men running around and A getting me up to my feet, but when I picked up my sword, they were all gone, and I was back at the top of the hill, with D nowhere to be seen. One Orokin, a small guy, barely reaching twenty years of age, came from out of nowhere, and here I thought the evac would be more organized than this. However, his uniform was a mess, ragged all over, patched up with cloth and tape at certain spots, and his helmet had its fair share of bumps and scratches. That definitely can’t be a look for someone who still belongs inside a ship, but he still told me to come with him to the ruined city, and that D was waiting for me there. The red flags this all raises are too many to ignore, but it looks like I have no choice, although I will still keep my guard up, just in case this isn’t what it seems. _

_ Day 123, Entry N°68: Unexpectedly, I have faced three consecutive swerves in just these two days alone. Firstly, none of these people are working directly with the Orokin navy anymore, they got shot down and they lost contact with their captains months ago. By now, they most likely are dead, or relocated to other positions as Orokin leadership keeps rapidly depleting. _

_ Secondly, they are all survivors, and have somehow managed to resist the weather and the near-total lack of supplies through all this nightmare. The city isn’t as abandoned as we thought it would be, and maybe that’s a good thing, since we were told through our comms system that the evac had to be delayed due to the required forces being trapped inside a messy engagement not too far from here and their chances of making it out alive aren’t even that high. _

_ And finally, they told me that D tried to open fire at them for no reason, seemingly out of nowhere, and all they could do is defend themselves. I was just about to call them liars and retaliate on his behalf, but they guided me to a hidden room, right inside the basement of one of the tallest, least devastated buildings in there, where a few cryopods were still standing operational. Almost all of them were empty, of course, except for one, which hosted a dormant, not too injured D, and his weapons were sitting right next to him. They told me they didn’t mean any harm and this was the proof, they claimed to have gone out of their way to restrain D while he was still delirious, and although only he could confirm that story but is unable do to his current state, I will still place the barest of faiths in these rag-wearing troopers, as they don’t really seem disloyal to Orokin in the slightest. We are still unsure of what’s to come, however, but that isn’t something we can determine with the limited influence of our willpower. _

_ Day 125, Entry N°69: I’m surprised the comms have been so active since we arrived here, albeit now in a welcome way. Having to hear people suffer and agonize as their ships get shot down and their comrades and themselves presence themselves getting rained down by projectiles each and every single day, isn’t a pleasant experience in the slightest, but I cannot risk shutting down the line and losing the opportunity to call someone to get us out of here either. I never would’ve thought double-edged swords could also apply to your own psyche, but here I am now, proven wrong, sitting in front of my dormant brother-in-arms, wondering if A truly perished or not. Fate can be a cruel harlot, but A could’ve never been betrayed so easily by her, they’re almost interchangeable and double-crossing of that magnitude would be inadmissible, especially given A’s defiant nature. _

_ These refugees aren’t too problematic. They can become a little annoying at times, with their endless questions about the state of the war, the casualties suffered on both sides, and whether we still have a chance, none of them which I can answer with complete certainty. I cannot fully blame them for their blissful ignorance, however, their humanity will always get in the way, forcing them to constantly remind themselves that they are mortals, all the people around them can perish, and that their youth won’t mean much when their future isn’t a given, they still want anything to latch onto in order to take their lives for granted, just like their brothers and sisters, or at the very least those that haven’t died yet. _

_ Let’s see how much longer they can last as things keep getting worse. _

_ Day 130, Entry N°70: Five days, five long and painful days of urban warfare, as the expected but undesired ended up knocking at our crumbling door. The Sentient were here, apparently it’s their third visit for these Orokin soldiers, and we had to take the streets, weapons in hand, and challenge those things before they demolished the remains of our temporary haven any further. We suffered heavy casualties, and many districts that were mostly intact were completely flattened, but at the very least we drove them away, and the basement with all the hidden pods didn’t suffer any damage. I’m pretty sure all of this would have been far easier if D had been awake when it happened. _

_ Day 131, Entry N°71: The constant banging of enemy artillery from the sky refuses to stop haunting me in an absolutely perpetual fashion, a sickening torture device that at the very least has driven the whispers coming from the comms system mostly silent to my ears. D has decided to compensate for that, though, he hasn’t been able to get out of his cryopod yet, but he keeps moving inside, pressing his hand against the glass from time to time and looking at me with out-of-place stoicism. Such a shame that the security lock of his pod had to break down so badly, a few of the troopers went maniac and started attacking anyone on sight, including D’s cryopod, and now he’s trapped inside. I shall hope this doesn’t last. _

_ Day 132, Entry N°72: We are under attack once again. This once promises to last a while, I’ll only be able to write in very short spans of time until this siege is either lifted or completed.  _

_ Day 133, Entry N°73: I took two to the head. _

_ Day 146, Entry N°74: They are all dead. The Orokin survivors, the Sentient, all met their demise in the siege. The fleets have abandoned me, they’ve abandoned us, retreated when news about Sentient destroying all that was left of the High Command spread all over the Origin system. All the details I can really remember with my pounding head is the name “Natah” and that she doomed us all, that damn bitch. She now claims to be the leader of those of us who are left, forgetting her many “children” that she has left behind, stranded in the most remote places of this planet and all the others. _

_ D never recovered, the Sentient got to him and destroyed his cryopod, injuring him severely. I had to relocate him to another one of the damaged pods and put him in cryosleep, I don’t even care how long it lasts anymore. _

_ And what about me? Well, I thought he could use some company… _


	18. XVII: A Creator's Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alad's newest, most perfect creation to date finally wakes up from their long slumber.

“Deinos, my dear, would you mind stepping away for a moment? He needs as much space as possible when he exits.”

Expectation fills the air, thick enough to rival nitrogen and oxygen for their spots, despite there only being two conscious people, Alad and Deinos, standing in front of a cryopod, the same one that currently contains his latest creation. Vitals keep going up and down frantically on the nearby monitors, one of them showing a registered name right above a rendered model of the subject: “Pegasus”.

“Things are going wild inside that pod,” Alad comments with false confidence, trying his best to hide his soul-crushing nervousness as he knows those damn monitors are showing him a possible loss of months of work, millions upon millions of credits in investments, and last but most certainly not least, a life. He rushes over to the computer, trying to stabilize anything at his reach, and almost instantly, many alarms that were going off shut down with each delicate decision he makes, the subject’s heartbeat slowly gaining a more regular rhythm. Deinos stares nonchalantly, in slight expectation of the subject’s introduction as soon as everything’s under control, and since it’s Alad V who’s taking care of the situation, it takes less than a minute for all worrisome signs to fade and be replaced with regular measurements.

“That was quite the close call.” Alad admits, unashamed of his efforts and stepping away from the monitors, glass of champagne in hand. He wanted to spoil himself just a little bit as a self-congratulatory gesture after all he’s accomplished, and he knows for sure none of the directors would’ve given him such a nice display of appreciation anyways. However, his expectation returns to his mind and invades most of his thoughts when he looks at the motionless subject behind the glass. Under those conditions, it doesn’t look like such a bad idea to manually open the pod himself, although that would ruin such a drumroll-worthy moment.

Sighing with acceptance, he steps forward, Deinos glancing him over her shoulder with curiosity, until they’re right next to each other, and reaching down on the lower part of the pod, he finds a small lever, carefully placed not to be the first thing that gets pulled, and looking back at his subject, he pushes it down. The sound of compressed, frozen air escaping the pod quickly invades the room, as the glass barrier slowly lifts to give a clearer sight of the interior and its inhabitant, still unwilling to awaken from his slumber.

With an almost childish instinct, Deinos brings a hand forward, extending her index finger, and before Alad can stop her, she pokes the dormant frame on the arm, an action which receives a sudden, but expected response, when he grabs her wrist with enough strength to catch her off-guard. Her immediate reaction is to unleash her claws, threatening to fight back, and it could easily turn into a bloody mess if Alad wasn’t there to separate them both. Luckily, both of them still obey him unconditionally, despite Deinos’ feral instincts and the subject’s defiance and air of mystery

“That’s enough, Deinos, please get out of the room!” He yells with genuine concern, fueled by his fear of losing all he’s put into this project just by not paying enough attention to his surrogate daughter and her violent, uncontrollable tendencies. Although she still doesn’t lower her claws right away, there’s not much she can do with them outside the room anyways, as Alad pushes her out when she proves to be a little too insubordinate this time around. Finally alone with his subject, he looks back to see he already got up, stretching his arms and checking his surroundings with extreme caution.

“There’s nothing to fear,” Alad reassures him “You are among friends, probably even family. Do you remember me?”

With his attention easily caught, the subject glances him up and down before taking his gaze towards the nearby monitors. The silhouette displayed on screen isn’t familiar for no reason, he looks down to his own self and spots the totally identical resemblance, and a name written on top.

“Pegasus, that is your name.” Alad confirms his suspicion “I’m glad you’re finally awake, and it looks like you’re in perfect condition too. How do you feel?”   
  


“And who are you?” Pegasus asks him boldly, not willing to continue until he uncovers all the mysteries surrounding him, which are admittedly more than just plenty, considering he remembers absolutely nothing, leaving his mind as little more than a clear canvas, a blank space without any memories inside.

“Me? No one too special, really, unless you find your creator to be a very important person for you, but who really considers that to be even remotely valuable?” Alad questions half-jokingly, aware of the outlandish nature of his remark.

Pegasus just stares at him blankly, standing right in front of that who claims to be his maker, looking around to find more and more evidence of it possibly being true.

“Alad V, by the way.” Alad adds upon witnessing his doubt “Most people just call me Alad, but you can stick with whichever you prefer.”

Although it’s not enough to fully convince Pegasus, it at least seems to be enough to lower his guard and feel more welcome in this strange environment for him, enough to extend a hand after a solid thirty seconds of motionless staring.

“I suppose I owe you my gratitude, then.” Pegasus answers more calmly than before, gladly shaking hands with his presumed creator. It might be a product of blissful ignorance, but the comfort he finds in being there with an amicable individual that supposedly made him, lets him accept his current circumstances, despite how strange they might seem in hindsight.

“Don’t think too much about it, I’m just doing my job.” Alad admits without losing even a glimpse of his trademark corporate confidence “Besides, I always thought someone very close and important to me could use a little brother, and here you are, to likely fulfill that role.”

“So I also have a sister?” Pegasus asks with rising curiosity.

“Well, yes, but I wouldn’t say you’re necessarily blood-related. You see, just like you, she’s one of my creations, but she came to be way before you, making her you older sister.”

“So the only thing relating us as a ‘family’ is you being our maker?”

“It’s admittedly weird, I understand, but I just wanted to try and make the connection, since I thought she could use someone close to her aside from me.”

“So I just exist to be emotional support?” Pegasus asks with looming disappointment.

“No, of course not, that’s just one of the many things you can do for us. For now, why don’t you follow me? I’ll present you to your sister so you can start knowing each other.”

Although there are plenty of things in this situation to be suspicious about, Pegasus decides not to think much of it, at least as long as nothing looks even remotely harmful. However, he still remembers Deinos poking him just as he was waking up, and how his sudden, instinctive reaction almost caused a disaster. Quiet regret instantly fills his thoughts, but Alad leads him out of the room before he can voice out a proper apology, perhaps he will be able to spew it out now that he’s face to face with his surrogate sibling.

And as for her, she just stands in front of him, pretty much staring past him, her claws already retracted back onto her hands to form an unconventional layer of protection over her fingers. Her eyes, however, hidden under her helmet, glance over him, inspecting him in more detail now that he’s out of his pod. 

It’s just as Alad predicted, his armor went from chunks and heavy padding placed strategically, to more organic, flexible and carefully connected pieces, and several horns of hard tissue sticking out on his joints, like his shoulders, knees, elbows, and even the front of his calves. The white of his layers of protection gained a darker, more ivory color, and the openings on his helmet changed shape to something more rough and rugged, cut in half by another branch of armor that connects with the top of his helmet. The half-disc of metal sitting on top somehow grew a thick, long, silky yet still luscious black crest that falls down until resting on his shoulder, now properly protected with armor along with the rest of his arms, and most importantly, his torso. Nothing about his chest and abdomen seems unprotected in the slightest, covered by a single-piece chestplate that looks just as strong and sturdy as it is flexible, allowing for plenty of breathing room, but still remaining extremely reliable in close combat. It even has an odd symbol engraved on top of the sternum, a flame formed by several lines and accompanied by a pair of wings of some sort. The Helminth did its job quite stellarly while he was still inside his pod, it’s only a matter of putting that armor to the test now.

“Pegasus,” Alad speaks up “this is Deinos, fellow Warframe, your new surrogate sister and mission partner.”

“She’s not very talkative, is she?” Pegasus asks as soon as he notices she doesn’t speak a single word.

“Give her some time, she prefers her actions speaking for her instead of her words. Why don’t you introduce yourself to her? That could be a good starting point.”

Still unsure of what results it might yield, he takes another step forward and extends a hand towards her, clearing his throat in the least awkward way he can manage.

“Greetings, Deinos, or should I rather call you sister? My name is Pegasus, and I think we’re going to be squadmates from now on, so I hope we can get to know each other much better in the upcoming missions.”

Despite his best efforts, the setting somehow manages to gain an air of unease, most likely caused by Deinos just staring down at his open, offered hand without really trying to reciprocate. It doesn’t feel as if she’s doing this on purpose, however, but rather like she doesn’t know the meaning of the gesture, and as such she might not understand how to respond. To spare her the trouble, Pegasus withdraws his hand and tries a different approach:

“So, what can you tell me about where I am? Alad right here told me that you were created by him, just like me.”

Afraid that she might not say anything again, he’s just about to stumble around with his words and continue with the one-sided conversation as best as he can, but she finally says something:

“Father’s ship… You are here…”

“That’s right, we are all inside my personal ship.” Alad continues for her “We’re currently right above Venus, although I don’t think you remember anything about the Origin system, do you?”

“What is the Origin system?” Pegasus asks with genuine confusion.

“And as I suspected, you really don’t remember much about anything, just the basic stuff. Why don’t you take a seat here and I tell you everything you need to know in general?” Alad points at his pilot seat, which Pegasus doesn’t waste any time to comply and sit on. 

The following hours presence Alad giving him as lengthy and thorough an explanation of history, the current factions, and their purpose as scientist and Warframe, as he can manage, and Deinos nearly falling asleep on several occasions on top of his shoulder. Pegasus never takes his attention away from both of them, not even for a single second to look around himself, his gaze and his focus stay sharp and captured by millennia of context and history being bombarded upon him without any mercy, not that he needs it as he goes through concept after concept with prodigal ease. Orokin, Corpus, Grineer, Sentient, The Lotus, the Origin and Tau systems, the Warframes, no concept or definition slips past him as his mind catches each and every single thing to store it permanently, and by the end of what would be an insufferable marathon for most people, he knows just about everything he should know, at least the barebones details, which he could easily expand later, but it still remains a cognitive feat most couldn’t accomplish, including Alad himself, who had to do many other things as he kept explaining just for the sake of not losing his mind, leaving Deinos sat right in front of her new brother, silent as ever, perplexed and jaded alike by the heavy information artillery that was indirectly fired upon her blissfully ignorant self, seemingly staring past Pegasus and directly through the glass barrier that separates them from the cruel, cold abyss of space.

“And I think that about covers everything.” Alad proudly announces, letting the exhaustion be as audible as it can be through his voice “Do you have any questions?”

“Just a single one.” Pegasus responds with far more excitement “What is next for us?”

“For you? Well, there is something, but I’ll get into more detail later, you should take some rest for now.”

“I’m not even tired.” Pegasus claims, slightly puffing out his chest.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Alad points at a near-unconscious Deinos, who’s nearly planted her head against the cold hard steel floor of the ship. Both he and Pegasus walk over and help her up, slowly walking her to her pod and softly laying her down, and as soon as the back of her head makes contact with the softness of its interior, she’s out like a light.

“It’s curious, she shouldn’t feel the need to sleep at all,” Alad remarks “her kind and as such you too lose the natural necessity to fall asleep in its totality, and yet she still does it pretty often. Of course, mind you, not as regularly as a normal human being, but still about twice or three times a week.”

“Will I feel the same urge?” Pegasus asks him, pressing the button that lowers the glass barrier of Deinos’ pod.

“No, I really doubt it, you physiologically function very differently from her, you might even be more competent in longer operations since the energy core I installed in you can keep you going for a while without any interruptions.”

“So why will she come with me on missions? Wouldn’t you prefer to keep her here and safe?”

“Don’t misunderstand, she’s still extremely capable on her own, and with some little partnership from you, she might do even better. Just keep an eye on her just in case she makes an effort too great for her to handle, as she tends to lose control quite often.”

Yet another thing for him to keep in mind, although he doesn’t really mind, the people he’s currently with already seem like very pleasant, if extravagant company. He might not have yet found the same bond Deinos has with him, but after all, he’s just woken up, time will determine what will come for them and their relationship.

“I’m going to find it very strange to call you father.” Pegasus confesses, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean, you don’t have to if you’re going to find it uncomfortable, but at least take good care of Deinos, she really needs someone else to keep her safe out there.”

“Don’t worry, I can guarantee she’s going to be safe with me, I’m going to do everything I can to protect her.”

“Just don’t try to put your life on the line, you’re meant to take care of each other, not sacrifice yourselves, that would be counter-productive.”

“You got it, uh… Boss? Is it okay if I call you that?”

Alad nods, adding a thumbs up of approval for good measure, and picks up a nearby PDA to start working on his next project. Upon taking a first glance, Pegasus can’t see anything more than confusing gibberish, but he cuts himself some slack, he just woke up and expecting himself to be a genius with science and mathematics right away couldn’t be any more unrealistic, especially since that won’t be his field of expertise at all. The most he managed to identify, however, looked like a star chart of sorts, a set of constellations that likely guide to a specific point in a certain planet, based on the arrangement and how they would look on the night sky. A very oddly specific and complex deduction, certainly, but although he might not know what all those algorithms and calculations might mean, he can still figure out what to make out what he can comprehend, keeping in mind everything Alad told him and expanding upon it with his own discoveries.

“Does this catch your attention?” Alad asks him with a smile on his face.

“Ah, my deepest apologies, boss, I didn’t mean to disturb you!” Pegasus bows with sudden embarrassment. Alad can’t help but laugh at this display, helping him back up between snorts and chuckles.

“Come on, Pegasus, value yourself a little more than that. Look, this star chart indicates where my next subject of investigation is, seemingly hidden inside a building sunken at the very bottom of a frozen lake in Venus. I wanted to jump into making yet another member for your team and another sibling right away, but the Board of Directors, wasn’t too fond of that idea, they wanted me to first check out these Warframe models once they were finally brought to the surface.”

“I didn’t know so many of us were hidden all over the place.” Pegasus comments, filled with newfound curiosity.

“Oh, right, you still don’t know much about the Old War. There’s a lot about it that won’t be easy to get into detail with, but basically there was once this massive war millennia ago, between the Orokin empire at the very peak, and the Sentient, do you still remember what I told you about both of them?”

Pegasus nods with arms crossed and his attention thoroughly caught.

“Good, you really learn very quickly, don’t you? Alright, so the Orokin were big, huge, powerful, they had everything at their reach, yadda yadda yadda, but they had certain necessities that forced them to expand to other systems.”

“Tau, right?” Pegasus momentarily interrupts, as if in the middle of a quiz.

“Correct, so they needed a couple good tools for terraformation and whatever automated toothpicks they might’ve had at the time wouldn’t suffice, and seeing this key requirement, they made the Sentient and sent them over to the Tau system to make it more suitable for colonization.”

“Did it backfire?”

“Spectacularly. Those machines took a u-turn almost right away and started making a whole mess out of the Orokin colonies, and since they’re machines, they can repair themselves, they’re easy to mass-produce, and casualties aren’t an issue for them, it didn’t take all that long to turn into a full-blown war between man and machine. In fact, the Sentient are the main reason why you Warframes were made in the first place.”

“And how does that explain a Warframe or two hidden at the bottom of a lake?”

“Well, Warframes had to be deployed all over the Orokin system just in order to contain the sheer chaos those things were causing. There was a particular batch, birthed at the very peak of the heat of this conflict, the second generation of Orokin killing machines, or as we in Corpus choose to call them, GEN II Warframes, and they were made to be as high-tech as beings with Helminth flowing through their veins could be. Of course this plan originally didn’t go well, they ultimately dropped it when they realized they were just killing test subject after test subject without getting any results other than death, and decided to just opt for the more traditional approach they were using with the first generation of Warframes.”

“And you’re taking this tangent because…?” Pegasus asks, genuinely confused.

“Ah, sorry, I went into a little too much detail, let me be brief with this again. Basically, plenty of those GEN II Warframes were deployed here in Venus, and many of them were abandoned on the planet when a mysterious series of events and circumstances marked the final downfall of what remained of the Orokin empire. What we know so far is that two GEN II Warframes are down on that lake, and although we don’t know what they’re capable of, or even if they’re still alive, the value they could have for our research couldn’t even be measured in feasible units, especially since our last subject, Atropos, escaped and joined the Lotus’ ranks.”

“And you want to be there to study them personally?”

“Exactly, they have so much data I can collect to perfect my craft and give both of you more than just a few upgrades, you would be even better than you already are!”

Pegasus’ curiosity paid off quite well, much to his satisfaction. He still has some questions left, namely the identities of these Warframes his boss wants to study, but he knows better than to endlessly pry on and on with all his doubts, especially to his superiors, so he chooses to sit down next to Alad in the navigation deck, watching the ship slowly orbit the goddess of love and focusing his meditation on the soft, gentle purring of the thrusters.

This doesn’t last, however, as Alad pokes his shoulder to snap him out of his soothing trance, a large screen opening up right in front of him.

“Pegasus, please forgive my intrusion, but I’ll need you to go back to your room with Deinos, I need to attend a call with the directors and I need to be alone in the transmission.”

The slightly torn, but still noticeable tone in Alad’s voice catches Pegasus off-guard, wanting to ask what’s wrong, but concluding it wouldn’t be wise and it wouldn’t match his boss’ current desire for him to leave, he nods and complies, getting up and grabbing Deinos at the middle of the hallway, bringing both of them into the room for Alad to finally sigh heavily and open the call and be met by the directors and their permanent corporate indifference. This alone sends chills down his spine that nearly make him recoil off his seat, but somehow he manages to keep himself together.

“Well, Alad.” The main director at the center begins “We heard that you have good news for us, and since we’ve been expecting your results with your Project Diomedes, we await impatiently what you have to announce to us.”

The stakes couldn’t be any higher for him than they are already, he knows very well disappointment isn’t an option, regardless of how they present it, and as such, he gulps as quietly as he can manage and brings himself forward just slightly.

“A-alright, gentlemen, you were notified very accurately, if you ask me, as of course Project Diomedes has concluded its second phase successfully. It is with all my pride that I announce to you, the completion of subject Pegasus, our most perfect and meticulously crafted Warframe that will soon form part of the Diomedes series, as soon as it expands into a true mass-production line.”

The joy and pride in his voice couldn’t be any more evident, although he still flinches when he has to say Pegasus is perfect. Of course, he technologically and physiologically is as flawless as a Warframe can get, but wouldn’t that be throwing his little Deinos under the bus and not giving her enough credit for what she is?

“Well,” The director clasps his hands, in a surprising gesture of approval and possible excitement “show us, then. Where is it?”

“The subject? I thought you’d never ask! Pegasus, come here, the directors want to see you in person!”

Although he has to admit to himself that he really wasn’t expecting them to want to see Pegasus, he’s still pleasantly surprised, filled with the expectation to see their reaction when they finally get a chance to meet the perfect Warframe. The footsteps that echo through the ship’s hallway are all the response he needs, Pegasus is coming, and he’ll be able to show himself to these corporate heads that want nothing but earnings. Well, if they wanted earnings, there they have it, the perfect subject that was made to never fail, and Alad feels his hand on his shoulder. Raising his gaze, he’s standing right there, looking down at him with minor confusion, but Alad just points at the screen in front of both of them and that’s all he needs.

One of the directors clears their throat quite audibly, snapping Alad out of his small, short-lived trance. Pegasus fixes his posture and stands as proudly as he can pretend as well, both of them awaiting the next set of words, likely corporate speech, from the heads of Corpus.

“Alad,” The same director that cleared their throat speaks up “it is with much pleasure that we can proudly announce our great satisfaction with the fruits of your labor. What you have presented before us not only shows a great amount of promise we cannot wait to see in action, but you have also not only matched, but somehow surpassed our expectations, a pleasant surprise coming from you, of course.”

The relief that washes off all of Alad and Pegasus’ complaints comes to them like a splash of fresh water to the face, they can barely contain themselves from sighing again and revealing just how afraid they were the whole time. Alas, a success is a success, and now Alad grins like a madman, he can’t even hide his happiness in front of the cynical directors as they sit silently, awaiting his response.

“Thank you, thank you very much, gentlemen.” Ald bows down, and Pegasus mimics his movement without any hesitation “I do this not only for myself, that would be too selfish, I only seek for my creations to serve as ways for Corpus to step closer and closer to greatness, I would never create something that didn’t satisfy Profit, and this is my absolute expression of gratitude to all the blessings that have been bestowed upon me. I promise he will not disappoint.”

Pegasus takes a step forward without even being commanded, and takes his turn to formally present himself:

“With my life, strength, and soul, all provided by the fruits of the effort of this man right here, Alad V; I, Pegasus, swear an oath, devoting my life to the ways and necessities of Corpus, serving Profit the best way I can, and all my actions and decisions may be in favor of what we believe in, and the blood I draw may be from our enemies, from this very moment onwards, until the end of times.”

The directors’ lack of a response forces an air of awkwardness into the scene, one that Pegasus was hoping not to have to face, but at the very least he won’t have to break it, one of the directors does that for him:

“Pegasus, is that your name? I don’t think you yet understand how we work in Corpus. Your devotion to Profit is greatly appreciated, and although we can acknowledge how noble and heartfelt your oath was, we are no Grineer, and we are not the Lotus either, your loyalty will be admitted and accepted as long as you stay true to Profit and your actions bring earnings to us, of course, always obedient to your contract.”   
  


“Excuse my imprudence, but does this mean that I have to sign anything?”

“Not at all, Alad is your creator, and therefore you are under the conditions of his contract, which means you won’t have to sign anything. However, this means you still have to play by the same rules that he does, no exceptions allowed, or else we’ll make sure you face the appropriate consequences.”

“Don’t worry,” Alad adds “I promise he will behave, and only bring us success.”

“He better do,” Another one of the directors comments with far less optimism “we have invested so much into this project of yours, your job, your career, and even your little subjects are all on the line, so unless you want to lose even your beloved Zanuka, I advice you make sure not to make even a single mistake if you want to preserve yourself where you are right now.”

The nervous nods of acknowledgement from both Alad and Pegasus almost come at the same time, much to the directors’ dismissive satisfaction before they say their farewells. The screen closing marks a new beginning for the silence invading the vessel, and for both Alad and his new Warframe to assimilate the new stakes they will have to face in the foreseeable future.

“I suppose I should start getting real practice with guns and weapons as soon as possible, then.” Pegasus breaks the silence “Where should I begin?”

“Right, thanks for reminding me! So, I don’t know if you Warframes ever need winter coats or not, it doesn’t really look like they’re necessary since I’ve seen Deinos running through the snowfields just fine without anything like that, but we’ll be descending in no time so that you can train and spar a little with your sister Deinos and learn the ropes of your new job.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Pegasus’ excitement reignites “What are we waiting for’”

Alad can’t help but find his enthusiasm pretty contagious, replying with a smile before turning around and setting autopilot for the ship to make the slow, quiet descent to the cold, white surface of frozen Venus underneath. His research can wait, now that he has a brand new Warframe to take care of, or rather teach how to take care of himself, and it could easily just be as time-consuming and engrossing as anything he chooses to investigate, but at the very least it would be far more entertaining. Besides, a Warframe with no combat skills is completely useless, right?


	19. XVIII: Alas, Perfection Brothers You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pegasus' first ever practice session shows the first hints of his true potential, and the seeds of a secret, growing hatred towards him from someone else that nobody expects.

Surprisingly, the weather on Venus' surface isn’t as unrelenting this time around, indeed marking the perfect opportunity for the brand new Warframe to actually gain some real experience with combat and weapons. Alad doesn’t necessarily have a large repertoire with himself, he’s no fighter, or at least not full-time; but he still has contacts, and in a very short time, a dropship arrives with a cache of different guns and melee weapons and projectiles, all ready to be tried out.

“I’m not sure how much you preserved of your pre-Helminth memories, but I hope using these can bring back some of them.” Alad comments, grabbing one of the lighter rifles inside the box “I tried to make sure you went into that pod with as much knowledge of combat skills and martial arts as possible, and hopefully they stayed around at least subconsciously.”

“Well, for now, I can assure you that I don’t remember a single thing about combat,” Pegasus points out with far less hope, but still maintaining a certain degree of cheerfulness “but I’m sure that can be solved in no time.”

“Well, catch.” Alad tosses him the rifle. Normally, any other person would lose their balancing upon catching such a heavy piece of combat machinery, but Pegasus’ top physique allows him to grab the weapon mid-air with a single hand, already giving it a curious glance. By the looks of it, it doesn’t really seem that hard to use, just a steady pulse and strong arms should do the trick, and he most definitely has both of those traits. To Pegasus, it feels surprisingly natural on his hands, already holding onto it like a veteran with decades of field experience, testing out the weight a couple more times before releasing the safety lock without even the need to ask where it is.

“How does it feel?” Alad asks him, glad to see he’s grown accustomed to holding a weapon in just a matter of seconds.

“Subconscious memories, huh?” Pegasus responds with a rhetorical question of his own “I didn’t know metal would be so smooth and delicate to touch, at least not with this thing. It feels like I’m holding a puppy, especially lethal and with medium-range combat capabilities.”

“You’re a fan of puppies? That’s interesting, maybe I can get you a kubrow if you do well enough in your missions.”

“So you would give me a pet? Why hasn’t Deinos gotten one herself yet?”

“Well, she’s seemingly more of a fan of kavats, but still, can you imagine her taking care of any living creature on her own?”

“Fair enough.” Pegasus admits defeat, followed by a light chuckle and a pat on the shoulder from Alad as he sits on top of a nearby rock to watch him practice. Deinos takes her time deploying a few targets around the place, at different heights and distances, while Pegasus inspects the size of the gun’s magazine before tossing it away and looking for a new one inside the large stash. Pistols, sniper rifles, shotguns, carbines, even a pair of railguns, all of them get skipped as he can’t decide what to stick with, until he finds one at the very bottom.

At first glance, it looks like a very standard assault rifle, with no scope, no extended barrel or magazine, no silencer or sound suppressor, just a regular weapon most Corpus soldiers would carry around. However, as soon as Pegasus picks it up and presses a glowing button that sticks out like a sore thumb on the design, the gun shifts and extends its own length until gaining a double barrel, an auxiliary grenade launcher module underneath, and even a bayonet for good measure.

“So you managed to find it?” Alad sounds genuinely impressed “I thought I would have to save it for later, a little bit of a surprise gift for you and all that, but thanks for saving me the bother, I’m not good with those kinds of things.”

“I was hoping to get a good weapon, not the entire damn arsenal.” Pegasus replies, still intrigued with his gaze stuck to the hefty chunk of military engineering, giving it two or three looks around just in case he missed any other intricacies. Deinos, though, isn’t going to have any of that, poking his shoulder to bring him back into reality and remind him that they’re supposed to be training.

“Don’t forget to have fun, and try not to chop a finger or two off each other, they’re pretty expensive to replace.” Alad comments, grabbing a glass of wine that Zanuka brings him on a platter, an action he acknowledges gratefully by petting her thoroughly. Before they can proceed, Pegasus goes over and grabs another piece of equipment, seemingly the sharp tip of a spear, before giving it a good downward shake, forcing down the lengthy pole of the weapon to make it about his height and finally walking over to their planned training grounds.

Ten practice drones aren’t really much of a challenge, they’re not even armed with anything, at least not yet, and their resilience is lackluster at best. At least they can be tricky targets if their movement pattern becomes annoying and unpredictable enough. Deinos wishes to waste no further time and points at one of them to give Pegasus his first set of instructions:

“Flying enemies, they are fast… Use a gun, no melee…”

It might be brief, and she certainly isn’t much of a charismatic speaker, but whatever gets the job done, and Pegasus nods with his new gun already raised. The drones immediately increase the speed in which they circle both of them, their sensors clearly detected a hostile presence just now, and although Pegasus starts off somewhat disoriented, struggling to decide what target he should begin with, his determination doesn’t betray him and gives him the necessary boost of confidence to pull the trigger in the direction of one of those flying things and hope for the best. It might have been a matter of luck, it might have been his “innate” talent, who knows, but the shot lands on the intended drone, bringing down its shields and turning a particular light on top of it red instead of the blue it had before.

“Enough…” Deinos pushes his weapon away from the drone “Red light means enough…”

The message she’s trying to convey couldn’t be any clearer, and Pegasus nods enthusiastically, aiming at another drone and repeating the process, with just as much luck as last time. There are still eight more left, but his successes allow him to speed up his rhythm and take care of the rest in just about the same amount of time it took him to get rid of the first two. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary for a regular Warframe performance-wise, but at least it shows that he’s in top condition, both physically and in reflexes.

“Sufficient…” Deinos comments, almost slurring her speech “That… Makes you sufficient…”

“I suppose we should shift to melee combat practice now, then?”

Deinos nods, but instead of deploying anything else, she takes a few steps away from him, turning around to face him directly, releasing her claws with seemingly less than innocent intent. It is quite clear what is about to happen, and Pegasus doesn’t look too willing to participate.

“Is… Is this fair, Boss?” He asks, backing away a bit, just in case Deinos decides not to wait for him.

“Don’t worry, Pegasus, she will try not to hurt you, just make sure not to lag behind too much or you might make her go full force against you, and you wouldn’t want that, right?”

Pegasus isn’t too convinced yet, still trying to put as much distance between himself and her without looking like a coward, the least he can do without blatantly objecting to the idea, but it’s in vain, Deinos keeps stepping forward to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere, it’s very clear that his only option is to fight.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of your own sister, Pegasus.” Alad comments in a teasing manner, hiding his grin with a sip of his wine “Come on, don’t worry, she’s not going to hurt you. Right, Deinos?”

Although she doesn’t pull her gaze away from Pegasus as he keeps trying keep himself at a reasonable distance from her, she still responds barely loudly enough for Alad to manage to hear her:

“Of course…” She lowers her claws just slightly, in a barely perceptible gesture to show Pegasus that he has nothing to fear. He still doesn’t seem eager to initiate the spar, however, but he still grabs his spear and gets into a fighting stance, preferring to trust them instead of disappointing them with his apparent cowardice. Alad smiles upon this sight, raising his glass and finally observing Deinos slowly, cautiously get rid of the distance between them.

“Looks like you still remember how to put a stance, don’t you?” Alad points out, observing just how naturally Pegasus manages to keep himself composed in his posture. Pegasus nods slightly, bringing his spear forward to give himself some protection in case Deinos chooses to rush him, and unsurprisingly, given her nature, that’s exactly what she does. It’s pretty rare to see her fight with anything else other than her standard rifles, shotguns, or melee weapons, but when she does, it’s a sight to behold, especially when she uses her claws, and this time is no different. Almost pouncing onto him, she forces Pegasus to bring his guard up just as an effort to protect himself from her imminent attack, which barely works as her strike proves to be so savage that his arms get pushed down violently to almost touch the ground and make him fall face-first into the snow, yet he still manages to stay on his feet, even if just barely, just go be met by a flurry of slashes that initially throws him off and makes him stumble back, but thankfully he knows how to use his spear to keep himself balanced.

“Loose feet already?” Alad teases him from a distance “Come on, she’s barely getting started.”

Pegasus is just thankful that neither him or Deinos can see him widen his eyes under his helmet, quietly stuttering for a brief moment before responding:

“N-no, not at all, this isn’t that hard to handle for me.”

“Is that so? Why don’t you ramp things up a little for him, my little Deinos?”

Immediately regretting each and every single word that came out of his mouth, Pegasus gulps as he sees Deinos loosen her stance ever so slightly, adopting a more feral, menacing posture before jumping him again with even more speed and agility than before. If Pegasus initially had a hard time staying on his feet, now he even struggles to keep a consistent grip on his spear without it getting pushed up, down and aside by all of Deinos’ relentless attacks, but he still remains standing up, not wanting to give in no matter what, that is until she sweeps his right leg that was brought forward on his stance, bringing him down to the ground in an instant.

At first, they both think the duel is over right there and then, but he manages to roll away from her final strike aimed to disarm him, just bare inches before it can hit him, regaining his stance just as she’s about to strike again. Before he can even start wondering why she’s fighting with such unnecessary levels of ferocity, however, another furious barrage of attacks comes in his direction, diverting him from his thoughts and forcing him to place all focus on keeping himself intact. His spear somehow manages to endure the onslaught, despite being flailed around in all directions to block and parry as many of Deinos’ attacks as possible, an action Alad doesn’t let go unnoticed. Although he doesn’t state it out loud, he can easily see him relenting a response hit or two from him here and there, even if it isn’t with the tip of the spear, a display or extreme reluctance to injure his sister even if just slightly for the sake of sparring, something that quite surprises Alad given the sheer ferocity of Deinos’ offensive which would prompt most people to retaliate with just as much strength.

It doesn’t take long, however, for Pegasus to start losing his footing once again, the snow beneath his feet feeling more and more slippery by the second, or maybe it’s just that Deinos is making it harder for him to stay up standing. Either way, Pegasus can barely maintain himself at the tips of his toes, as the snow under his feet gets raised up more and more as he gets pushed back by the sheer strength of Deinos and her claw strikes, and he can barely resist. His back arches further and further back, his legs see themselves pushed progressively closer to the cold ground underneath, his behind can barely keep itself right above the snow, but he won’t be able to hold for much longer, Deinos’ onslaught intensifies as the exposed sides of her digits and limbs start glowing a fiery red, a little more and smoke would start exiting her helmet. Seemingly, this makes Alad a bit uneasy, as he gets off the boulder he was sitting on and gets just a little closer, in case anything happens, only he knows what it might be, and Pegasus wishes he had that knowledge too, as he’s now bare inches from kissing the snow.

The sound of metal clashing against more metal turns more and more unbearable, as now Pegasus is on a knee, hoping his spear doesn’t break as Deinos doesn’t stop, she keeps hitting harder, and harder, and harder, and it feels as if something’s about to break at any moment, and his posture shrinks further and further as his legs are buried deep into the snow, leaving him no chance to fight back. It is just a spar, but as it seems, and given Deinos’ sheer violence, there is no way for him to gain the upper hand, he’ll have to accept his first defeat…

When he opens his eyes under his helmet again, Deinos is standing a solid ten feet away from him for some reason, one that slowly circles him in the form of hundreds of semi-transparent white crystals, each about the perfect size to be a piece of jewelry, all of them leaving a thin, near imperceptible trail of pure energy that seems to be the crystals themselves slowly dissolving, as particles of these don’t take long to invade the air around him. If Deinos is startled, however, then Alad is jumping all over the place in pure joy, lifting the snow under his feet with his delighted skips and punching the air with excitement.

“Yes, it worked!” Alad loudly announces his seeming success “The energy core worked, you can use energy to your advantage!”

Pegasus blinks a few times at the sight before starting to feel more and more empty for some reason, as if something is depleting inside of him. He doesn’t feel any weaker due to this, however, he just feels like something is slowly exiting his systems, and once it’s over, all these crystals surrounding him shatter right before his eyes, covering his perimeter with even more floating, shining particles of energy.

Deinos carefully walks up to him, making him protect his face with his spear in a defensive gesture, hiding her growing disdain, an easy task given her perpetual apathy. But instead of resuming her attack, she lends him a hand and helps him back up to his feet,, albeit not too eagerly, allowing him to shake the dust and snow off his armor as they both observe Alad’s celebration with mild confusion.

“Is my failure really that exciting, Boss?” Pegasus asks far less joyfully than him.

“Oh, no, that’s not it at all, Pegasus! You see, what you saw right there is what I theorized the energy core I installed inside your body would let you do. Just as I expected, you can crystallize your energy reserves and turn it into smaller chunks of solid energy that you can use to aid you in battle.”

“So that’s what that was all about? What purpose does it serve aside from getting in the way?”

“Patience, Pegasus. We will sort everything out one thing at a time, but for now, at least we know the nature of your energy when you use it.”

“Was my performance good enough, at the very least?” Pegasus asks, assuring himself that there is no way he did well when he could barely protect himself from Deinos’ wrath.

“Good enough? My dear Pegasus, you not only did well, you totally excelled, your demonstration was quite impressive indeed!”

Before Pegasus can begin wondering about the true origin of Alad’s excitement, Deinos is already lost in her thoughts, thoughts that are of course far less positive, while she keeps her gaze fixated upon her brother, without even irradiating any sense of empathy whatsoever.

“... How?” Pegasus questions, somewhat conflicted and squinting his eyes under his helmet, and snapping Deinos out of her mind in the process.

“Come on, look at yourself, do you see any bumps or scratch marks on you?”

Pegasus shakes his head without even looking down to inspect himself, making Alad clasp his hands together with excitement.

“Exactly!” He continues with just as much glee as before “Give yourself some credit, you made it out of a fight with your big sister Deinos without looking like you got attacked by a horde of rabid kavats, that deserves way more merit than you think it does!”

Pegasus just shrugs in silence, allowing Alad to continue with his congratulations, now shifted into a more sober analysis, both literally and figuratively:

“Although I noticed you never really tried to counteract in any capacity. Did you hold back just because you were afraid of hurting her?”

“W-what? No, of course not!” Pegasus responds, obviously unable to hide how flustered this question makes him “You told her not to hold back, why wouldn’t I do the same?”

“Perhaps you were afraid that she would retaliate with even more strength than before? No, that couldn’t be it, that would make you a bit of a-”

“Boss, where are you even going with this?” Pegasus interrupts, ignoring the clearly teasing tone of Alad’s voice, or the wide grim he has from cheek to cheek, which only grows even larger.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing you should worry about, I promise, just make sure not to hesitate to hit girls next time.”

Alad turns around and walks into his ship as soon as he finishes this sentence, leaving Pegasus in utter confusion, and Deinos standing there in awkward silence.

“Wait, that’s it, we’re not going to practice anymore?” Pegasus asks, snapping out of his invading inner thought process.

“What?” Alad turns around right before shutting the door behind his back “No, I never said it was over, Deinos still has plenty of things to show you. I just wanted to see if you could actually use your energy, and now that I saw that you can, I will go back to my ship and continue with my research.”

“Will I be able to take any breaks?”

“You’re a Warframe, you shouldn’t need any. Besides, you shouldn’t ask me, ask your sister, she’s the one directing your practice.”

As soon as Alad finally gets into his ship, Pegasus gives Deinos a glance just in case, and just like he thought, she doesn’t seem eager to cut him any slack anytime soon. Gulping, he takes a step forward, knowing he’ll just have to make just that much of an extra effort, and actually hope he can live up to the expectations everyone has for him being the perfect Warframe. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

“So, what do we do next?”


	20. XIX: A Humble Flawless Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pegasus and Deinos are ready for their very first mission together, one that will show the true capabilities and hidden potential of the "Perfect Warframe" and lead them to meet an old foe to their creator, but new to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to TheWriterValkyrie for helping me with this chapter, your contributions are great and very appreciated.

Pegasus can't meditate in peace, not when Deinos is constantly poking his helmet and messing with his concentration. It’s clear that she didn’t have enough with just putting him through not just hours, or even days, but a whole couple weeks of endless training that brought him to his very physical limit. Alad was always content to see both of them interact with each other, although there are really an infinite amount of different ways of getting more acquainted with a sibling that don’t involve extreme physical harm, but he never seemed to notice this, or perhaps it was just the lack of actual complaints from Pegasus or maybe he didn’t want to ruin Deinos’ fun. Either way, not even being able to get this small blessing of a moment of peace actually manages to get under his skin, without the need to break through his armor, and he’s just one more poke away from grabbing Deinos’ wrist and pulling her into the cold steel floor to make her stop for good.

However, it never comes, as she just kneels before him with almost childish curiosity and just stares at him, not even saying anything, resting her hands on her thighs while he finally allows himself to fix his posture and take a long, deep breath, releasing all the air his lungs catch and washing off all worries and troubling thoughts that might have been bothering him with one single exhalation. This definitely piques Deinos’ interest, who tilts her head and tries to process the meaning behind this, although it might seem as if it’s not going to be necessary, when Alad walks in with a closed fist pressed against his chest.

“Did you rest well, Pegasus?” He asks him in a strangely fatherly voice.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Deinos if I did or not, Boss?”

Alad knows way too well what he means, and although it’s the right thing to scold Pegasus’ sister for not letting him recover from his extenuating practice session in peace, he just can’t bring himself to do it, when she’s just staring at him with innocent expectation, forcing a silly smile on his face that he can’t and doesn’t even want to try to put out.

“Deinos, my little girl, why didn’t you let your little brother rest properly? Were you that curious about his methods of meditation, or did you just want to play with him some more?”

“I don’t think that would be the wisest idea,” Pegasus points out “since, you know, we’re still inside your ship and the moment we accidentally blow something up, we're all going to get sucked into the cold, endless vacuum of space, right?”

“Uh… I actually just meant you could trip onto something or break something important… But yeah, sure, that also works!” Alad clasps his hands together and immediately separates them to give Deinos more gentle headpats, which she surprisingly doesn’t reject, something Pegasus didn’t expect given her primal nature.

“So where are we going, Boss?” Pegasus asks, getting up and stretching a little without trying to hit anything or anyone, a task that proves to be way more challenging than he initially thought as he didn’t expect his height and size to get in the way like this.

“How fond are you of potatoes?”

“I don’t really have any strong opinion about them, since, well, I don’t really feel the need to eat them in my current form.”

“Well, I don’t know how entertaining you find the action of just mashing potatoes, but hey, at least I found you a far more fun version of it, if you want to see it that way.”

Before Pegasus can even start questioning what the hell he means by any of the things he just said, Alad hands him a data pad, containing imagery and information that right away check all the right boxes for him to get the purpose of this odd reference.

“Grineer?” Pegasus asks, looking back at him.

“Grineer.” Alad responds in kind “I’m rewarding you hard effort by giving you your very first mission, one I’m quite sure you’re going to have a blast sorting out.”

“What would this mission even encompass, do I just jump in and make a holy mess out of the place or what?”

“Although that would be hilarious to watch from my end, we have some protocols to follow, protocols that require you to find me a certain set of coordinates, this is why I brought this to you.”

Revealing the contents of his closed fist, he opens his hand to show a thin, fragile-looking piece of metal, not much longer than his index finger, with a round tip that seems to be meant to be plugged onto something, and a small blue light of some sort at the other end, which right now seems to be turned off. It doesn’t look like any sort of earpiece, and it definitely doesn’t look like a weapon either, so it certainly manages to pique Pegasus’ interest almost instantly.

“And what is this for?” He asks, carefully picking up the item with just two fingers and giving it a closer look.

“That right there, Pegasus, is a data drive, and despite not being too big, it will be just about enough to house all the information I need you to bring me. You see, the Grineer empire decided to finally grow a pair, just as potato-ish as its people, and expand its influence to somewhere else, but of course, because the average Grineer has the brain functions of a peanut, they chose  _ our _ outer territories in Venus of all places to assault, and do you think we would let them in without a proper welcoming party?”

“You want me to bring the party to their own base of operations, right?”

“Not just you, Pegasus, you have to take your sister with you too. After all, it would be such a shame if she missed out on all the fun, and I’m pretty sure she might find all those corpses quite useful too.”

“Is there any reason in particular for this?”

“You’ll find out as soon as you’re both there.” Alad taps his finger on the table a couple times before finally collecting his thoughts to continue “As for what that drive is for, we do know the Grineer are here, but we still are not sure what outposts they’re going to attack first.”

“You just said they’re going to attack the outer territories.” Pegasus remarks.

“Do you have any idea of just how massive that entire region is? Guessing where they’ll hit us would be like throwing dice and hoping to get the same roll at least ten consecutive times, it’s just not feasible, and it isn’t for them either.”

“And you want me to go there and ask them nicely if we can borrow their map of the region with their battle plans, I assume?”

“Give them a greeting fitting for a Warframe, and don’t worry about making a mess, you don’t have to make their janitors’ job any easier, that is if you don’t kill them in the process, of course.”

An alarm goes off in the navigation board, attracting Alad’s attention albeit not in a negative way.

“We’re here already?” He asks himself rhetorically “Damn, that was quick. You might want to go pick up your things now.”

“Wait, we’re doing it right now?” Pegasus appears certainly shocked.

“I mean, I was certainly hoping for a little more time to converse with you guys, and you know, spend some quality time together, but it seems we’ll have to get started with the operation right now. Get comfortable, because we’re going to make the descent in thirty seconds.”

“Couldn’t you have warned me first?” he half-asks, half-complains, irked.

“I would, if I had known we would be here this quickly. Now, if you excuse me, this thing right here isn’t going to enter the atmosphere on its own.”

Alad rushes out of the room, while both frames grab their guns and don’t find a better spot than their respective pods to stay in one place as the ship starts making the quick, turbulent descent into Venus’s surface. The vessel’s exterior heats up rapidly, glowing a flaming red as the face of the frozen goddess of love right underneath expands and fills more and more of their visible horizon. Most importantly, however, Alad can see it, right in front of him as his ship faces directly downwards, the tall, feeble Grineer outpost, standing as proudly as a structure mostly made out of scrap can stand, extending through the cold coastline of the frozen sea like a border wall, which makes it look even cheaper.

The constant patrols force Alad to bring his ship to an abrupt stop, still about a couple hundred feet above the enemy outpost, as he spins his seat and goes over to give the frames the order to go outside and peel some spuds:

“Alright, get up, you two. I won’t be able to get you any closer than this, unless we want to experience what a forced landing looks like from a first-person perspective, so you’ll have to glide the rest of the way down there. Show them that you’re not defenseless birds they can just use for target practice, alright?”

“Say no more.” Pegasus wastes no further time, getting up from his pod and going over to the ship’s already opened door, with Deinos right behind him. Taking a long, deep breath and letting it out in the form of a heavy sigh to empty his mind, he turns around and lets himself fall off, immediately being met by an abrupt shift in momentum that almost brings him even further up by just the sheer strength of the wind pushing him around. To counteract it, he shifts his posture, bringing his arms and legs towards himself, and dives down at full speed, resisting the tiny ice shards that get into his visor. The long purple tunic around his waist keeps shaking and waving almost violently, trying its best to follow all the directions of the air hitting it at once, and making his downwards trajectory a little slower than it could potentially be. Deinos doesn’t take long to catch up, using the same diving technique albeit not upside down, making their descent together until she fixes her position by bringing her torso upwards and drastically slowing down in the air. This puts some distance between them, but Pegasus doesn’t take long to do the same, turning around and copying her posture to match her speed, as they both draw their guns mid-air almost in sync with one another, preparing for the inevitable landing, sending up powdery snow in glittering drifts as they hit the ground.

Of course, since the platform is still made out of solid metal, their arrival is easily noticed by the dozens of Grineer guarding the long bridge, getting in formation and forming nearly impenetrable barricades of armed clones at both sides. The siblings see themselves forced to stand back to back, weapons drawn and tightly held, assessing their incredibly limited options. Neither end of the blockade will be willing to budge, even deploying heavy weaponry right in front of both groups, leaving no room to move for either of the two frames unless they’re ready to get sprayed and turned into lifeless trophies in a matter of seconds.

Although Deinos lacks the basic wit to organize a strategy, she isn’t strictly foolish either, keeping her shotgun raised and menacing instead of trying out her typical, more feral approach. This leaves Pegasus with all the mental work, not an easy task in the slightest, as he immediately finds no room to make a tactical retreat. Jumping off either side of the bridge isn’t an option, gliding away would only get them shot down from the sky, and charging straight ahead would be the worst possible approach. If he just happened to go forward, a great hail of bullets would be sent in his direction, their course wouldn’t meet any interruptions until they hit anything… Wait…

That’s it, but he’s not even remotely sure if Deinos knows how to go along with what he's planning. Communicating it to her would be the lesser issue, keeping her out of danger would prove to be the real challenge, but at this very moment, he knows he has no choice.

“Pegasus?” Alad notices his hesitation and asks with major concern.

“I’ll keep her safe.” Pegasus responds with a newfound sense of security, closing the channel to place his full concentration in the incoming maneuver. His Corpus creator sighs without taking his eyes off the feeds of his ship’s outer cameras, showing him just how desperate the situation is, and that right now, all he can do is place his faith on their might.

“Godspeed, Pegasus. Give us a show to remember.” Alad whispers as a good luck wish to him, one that the frame doesn’t get to hear, but he still believes it will reach him one way or another. The Grineer soldiers are growing impatient, their taunts keep getting louder and more aggressive, raising their guns into the air as an act of defiance while both frames do their best to stay calm and collected. However, where Deinos is able to maintain her unfazeable stoicism, Pegasus battles with doubt and restraint at the same time, his inner sense of caution wanting to keep him from doing what’s admittedly a very bad idea in hindsight, but he knows he has no choice.

“Psst.” Pegasus grabs her attention effortlessly and whispers to her “I have a plan, but in order to execute it, I need you to stay here. Get down to your knees, cover your head and don’t move or shoot anybody.”

Although Deinos doesn’t even nod, he’s quite sure that her instincts will give her enough blind trust to do what he needs her to do. Giving his weapon a last inspection, he takes a deep breath and, without skipping a beat, begins running forward at full speed. The Grineer barricade is quick to respond to this aggression, firing their rifles in unison and covering the air right ahead with bullets, making it obvious that it’s going to be impossible for him to dodge any damage. Instead of backing away, though, he keeps charging head-first, even looking back to gladly see that Deinos indeed obeyed him, now kneeling and arms covering her head, and another barrage of bullets going right towards her from the opposite enemy formation.

Bare inches, just a finger’s length before the projectiles can reach her, instead of the sound of her shields taking punishment, a shatter can be heard, followed by a dozen more, and even more afterwards. When Deinos instinctively raises her gaze, she finds herself surrounded by Pegasus’ small energy shards, slowly circling her as a few of them vanish upon coming into contact with any bullets, not without stopping them from doing any harm beforehand, begging the question as to what’s exactly happening right behind her.

As soon as she turns around, she sees Pegasus rapidly jumping from side to side, making great use, if not abuse of his grenade launcher on the tight blockade of Grineer troopers, who don’t have any time to react before they see their comrades torn to pieces, their limbs flying all over the place as the formation falls apart explosion after explosion. Somehow, that’s not it, when she hears many Grineer succumbing right behind her too, quick to notice the real cause behind these enemy losses in the form of all those stray bullets that didn’t hit Pegasus and kept travelling until finding any target, which unfortunately had to be friendly to their own side. Impressive, most would acknowledge, but Deinos isn’t about that nonsense, quickly getting up to her feet and seizing the new state of disarray from the former Grineer threat by letting pellets rain upon their backs. Even Alad applauds the show, proud to see the great products of his work bearing fruit in such a swift, cold-blooded fashion, as the dead soon outnumber the living down on that bridge.

Four explosive projectiles suffice to turn the once tight and proud Grineer garrison into a routing mess, now being torn even further to shreds by Pegasus’ spear, while Deinos’ shotguns spills way more enemy blood than it would be necessary, bathing the metal floor and edges in red and small pieces of clone flesh splattered all over.

“Good...job.” Deinos says slowly, giving her head a slight tilt.

“Nothing a little explosion or two can’t fix.” Pegasus replies joyfully, although he turns a little somber when he notices the grenade launcher got damaged, likely due to its haphazard inner mechanisms that, now that they’re out to be seen by the naked eye, make the add-on look even more rushed in its fabrication. Perhaps Alad will be able to fix it up once they’re back on the ship.

Speaking of which, Pegasus opens a new call with him, now that they’re done clearing all hostile forces on the bridge, only to be met by ear-deafening praise from him that even makes him slightly recoil in both surprise and pain.

“Amazing work down there, you two, you really are a natural with that thing and working with your sister!” Alad shouts at the top of his lungs, his celebratory screams echoing through the entire vessel.

“Thanks, Boss, but my eardrums somehow can withstand the thunderous roar of grenades or bullet fire better than your yelling directly into the microphone!” Pegasus complains, placing his hands on both sides of his helmet where his ears would be located.

“Right, right, sorry, I just got really excited right there.” he replies, sitting back down, smoothing out his coat and regaining control of himself, albeit with a stupid, joyful grin plastered on his face. Well, this is a new feeling. Genuine pride in someone else.

“Well,” He continues “now that everything’s clear, let’s get what we came here for, shall we?”

Pegasus nods at his side of the call, running into the nearby outpost, now empty and desolate but with all its monitors and systems still on. Deinos is quick to follow, carelessly stepping over some lifeless corpses and assuming a guarding position right at the entrance while Pegasus pulls out the data drive Alad gave him and inserts it into a small, circular slot on a large board at the very middle of the room, which by pressing the right button displays a large map of the entire region, quite conveniently containing quite a few markers and lines drawn through and around certain locations as well. It could almost just throw a disclaimer saying “Battle plans here” in bold letters, just to make it even more obvious.

“How long is it going to take to download?” Pegasus asks Alad through the still ongoing call.

“I didn’t expect Grineer to have the best connection speed, which is why that little drive is wirelessly connected to the ship’s signal. Give it a minute tops, it’s going to be worth our time either way.”

“I honestly thought they would put up more of a fight-” Pegasus gets interrupted by loud white noise, coming from the largest screen in the room. When both frames turn around, they only see static, but actual talking can be distinguished, even if just barely, and none of the things that are said can be understood. However, Pegasus can tell when Alad goes eerily quiet, and his eyes go as wide as they can, as a broad, familiar silhouette slowly, but surely appears on the screen as the static fades and the image becomes more and more clear, culminating in Alad’s dismay finally turning audible for Pegasus to listen, much to his displeasure.

“You…” The Corpus genius lets his dread out in his voice “You motherf-!”

“I just received your distress call,” The figure on the screen finally speaks up, with a distinctively deep, masculine voice and authority “but unfortunately I won’t be able to send reinforcements your way in time, unless you-”

Everything goes quiet, the only sound that can be heard being the powerful gusts of winds hitting the metal pillars holding the bridge, and all that Pegasus can feel is a deep, deep sense of both fear and disdain, its source completely unknown to him, aimed towards that person on the screen, who isn’t done just yet:   
  


“The Lotus?” He asks, seemingly in a rhetorical fashion “No, you look too manufactured, too unnatural, even by Warframe standards, even GEN II. So, who made you, little lizard?”

Pegasus can only be glad he doesn’t have to focus on Alad’s expression of utter shock. In truth, the Corpus scientist can’t believe it, what was supposed to be confidential information, everything about the meaning of or even just the term itself alone, GEN II, somehow isn’t a mystery to him, not just anyone, but  _ him _ , and before he can say anything, Pegasus steals the words off his mouth:

“That is none of your business.” He responds in quite the surprisingly intimidating manner, which instead of making whoever is on that screen relent, just results on a chuckle, followed by a deep, long laugh from him before he continues with a new sense of amusement in his tone:

“You do have some balls, don’t you? I have to admit, you resemble another Warframe I’ve come across throughout the years, more than just a few occasions, although one thing I never like about him is how little he minds his manners when dealing with me. I sense that in you as well, that arrogance, that false confidence imbued by your sense of power. You feel invincible, don’t you? I have to give kudos to your creator for making sure to let you grow some ego instead of turning you into their mindless lapdog. In fact, very few would dare take such a liberty with one of your kind, and even fewer would even try to make one of you. Anyo? No, he’s too power-hungry, and has too fragile an ego. Frohd? Has the resources but not the know-how. Which only leaves one single choice, one single thorn in my side, poking and prodding and trying to grow vines to snatch my work and profit off it… Oh, you big damn idiot, you ended up doing it. I always knew you would be stupid enough to do exactly this, but I never would have thought it would be this soon, but you never could resist the chance to get your poisonous tentacles in my jar, could you, you damn jellyfish?”

“I’ve won, Tyl Regor, you bloody asshole!” Alad curses his lungs out, despite no one hearing him “You think you’re very clever, but  _ I _ have done what many have thought to be impossible,  _ I _ unlocked the ancient secrets of Orokin,  _ I _ have created something that will make your beloved Tubemen shit their suits and run the fuck away, and this time there is nothing you can do to take it away from me, you massive potato piece of shit!”

“Jellyfish? Who are you talking about?” Pegasus asks, bringing the confrontation back to him.

“Oh, right, how rude of me to just leave you hanging like this, lizard.” The figure on the screen responds with surprising politeness “I should start by presenting myself, and then we'll talk about how unwelcome it is from you to just come here and kill an entire garrison of men under my leadership.”

Pegasus isn’t too convinced by his sudden courtesy, keeping his guard up and checking back on Deinos just to see she's suspecting him just as much as he is, but in the end, he nods and allows him to keep going:

“My name is Tyl Regor, head scientist under the direct orders of the Queens, overseer of the Uranus system, great Grineer among many, and current commander in chief of the Third Army, currently tasked with taking control of the border regions of Venus, but I’m sure your creator was already aware of that.”

“Yes, he is, and that’s exactly why we are here.” Pegasus remains just as defiant as before “See those plans right there, battle plans which most likely you made yourself? We have them here now.” He holds the slim data drive between his fingers, almost acting like a blatant taunt “Try to do anything now, we got it all figured out, each and every single move, no matter what you try to do, we will have predicted it, and your troops will perish just like they did today. This is the end, Commander Regor, there is no way you can win now. See you on the battlefield.”

Pegasus shuts the screen just about in time before Tyl can make a response, giving the data drive one final, long glance before backing away and exiting the room, quietly followed by Deinos. Staring at the sky, he patiently waits for Alad to make his descent, not without commenting something to himself:

“Well, at least he was somewhat pleasant to talk with. Wouldn’t you agree, Deinos?”

His sister just shrugs and steps back inside Alad’s ship as soon as he arrives, Pegasus following shortly after. Instead of being met in triumphant celebration by his boss, just like he expected, he just sits on his pilot seat, face turned away, whilst the more apathetic of the two frames goes directly to her room without skipping a beat. Pegasus, unlike her, stays in the navigation board, standing right behind a frustrated Alad, who has a completely empty bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other, drops of the beverage still present at the very bottom.

“Boss?” Pegasus’ concern can be heard in his question, and although Alad does respond, he doesn’t turn around to face him:

“You met him, didn’t you? And somehow, he could figure out all of that shit in just a matter of minutes. GEN II, you and Deinos, countless hours of work that were meant to be confidential, what else did he deduce that he didn’t dare tell us?”

“We’re going to win this, no matter what.” Pegasus reassures him, handing him the data drive, which he grabs and pockets without even bothering to give it a look.

“If only it were that easy, Pegasus.” Alad responds far less optimistically “You really know nothing about Tyl Regor, that asshole won’t stop for anything, and despite my previous suspicions, I didn’t want to accept he would lead such an invasion. We are fucked, so,  _ so _ fucked.”

Pegasus winces upon not being to do anything for him when he rubs his face with his hands before lazily faceplanting on the ship’s controls. All he can do is keep speaking, no matter how futile it might be, it’s all he can attempt to quell his creator’s drunken sorrow.

“At least we have their battle plans…” He quietly mutters to himself, placing a hand on Alad’s shoulder and observing the vastness and majesty of space, anything to distract himself and not fall into the same state of despair.

Tyl, however, doesn’t need to do this. Baffled but curious alike, he stares past the black of his screen, in quiet contemplation of everything he just presenced, while also keeping a slight grin of amusement under his mask.

“Touché, you got my strategy.” he confesses with surprising chivalry “I can just start making a new one, though…”


	21. XX: Moonlit Preface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little too early, perhaps, but war knows no proper time to attempt to take anyone's lives, and Tyl Regor definitely isn't the exception. The "perfect" frame and his sister, however, will still have to face an onslaught of obstacles and enemies as they make their way to the top, just to come face to face with their destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took quite a while, didn't it? Once again, a massive thank you to TheWriterValkyrie for helping out with this chapter, and especially for letting me borrow one of her characters, Danya, to let her make an appearance here. Your contributions are as always very appreciated.
> 
> -On a side note, I originally expected to be finishing this entire work by around this date. Silly me T_T

It all had to lead up to this. Although simply saying the weeks that have passed have presented Venus the beginning of a growing conflict between Corpus and the Grineer empire wouldn’t do it any justice, it still says just about enough to make it clear that not much more than a few skirmishes have happened, yet they still are a strong testament of what’s about to come. Who would’ve thought the border regions would be so valuable? Yet again, the need for resources is undeniable in the Origin system, especially for a growing autocracy that cannot afford the ludicrous trading fees the great corporate conglomerate has placed on them.

Still, the Corpus wouldn’t allow this offensive to go without a proper response, even if it isn’t in the shape of a great army, at least not just yet, but two Warframes should suffice, after all.

As such, Alad flies his ship through a battlefield that only increases in size, fearlessly watching the artillery shells from above, as they can never reach enough height to bring him down from the sky. However, he looks extremely pissed off, Nef Anyo speaking to him on a screen that’s been set aside for him to focus on the piloting, and the reason for his mood quickly becomes apparent:

“I still don’t agree with them on this, Anyo!” He shouts with little consideration of whether the two frames inhabiting his ship may hear him or not “Why the hell would they orchestrate an assassination attempt on Tyl Regor? It’s just a bunch of nonsense!”

“I would watch my mouth if I were you, Alad.” Nef openly warns him, still dressed in that suit from last time “You really don’t want this to reach the Board of Directors, do you?”

“Regardless, I don’t like the guy, but I don’t see a reason why he should be dead either! Come the hell on, this war has barely even started, and they already want him gone?”

“This is a measured risk, Alad, you know that very well. Without him, the Grineer will have to withdraw, and we’ll avoid military losses and spendings alike in the process. Besides, do you have a better idea?”

“Anything that doesn’t involve a bullet inside his skull, for example! I don’t know, get enough victories in key sectors, or get rid of other commanding figures in the Third Army that aren’t him, or cut their supply routes, none of those involve his death at all!”

“All of those options involve a net loss for us, how come you can’t see that?”

“Sometimes, you need to take a monetary loss in order not to do something very stupid.”

If anything, Nef Anyo looks extremely offended by this daring response, frowning and slowly shaking his head with clearly, if barely contained contempt.

“I could easily try you for heresy, after spouting such blasphemy without any sign of remorse.”

Alad only bangs his head against his ship controls, emerging with his face covered behind his hands and groaning upon such a display of idiocy.

“And how is it stupid, pray tell?” Nef insists cluelessly “Enlighten me with your wellspring of knowledge.”

“Just don’t murder the guy, he’s far too important in the grand scheme of things!”

“You don’t have a say on this anymore anyways, the orders have been given, comply unless you want to lose your job like a complete insubordinate dumbass.”

Nef closes the call immediately after, not even saying a farewell, or a simple good luck. Of course, Alad isn’t too receptive of this, flipping off a now empty screen before stifling one final insult and turning his focus back to the skies ahead.

“You’ve got no idea what you’re doing,  _ Neffy. _ ”

At least he doesn’t have to dodge any stray anti-air shells anymore, as he finally goes past the main stage of the conflict and deeper into enemy territory. Grineer bunkers and towers slowly replace the sight of thousands of Grineer and Corpus battling each other, but most importantly, a large structure right ahead, with far more care and effort put into it than regular clonemen architecture, grows larger in his immediate horizon as he gets closer.

Sensing no further danger up ahead, he gets off his pilot seat, turning on the autopilot, and trots over to the frames’ room, who are currently polishing their guns and counting magazines, preparing for the definitive job up ahead. Deinos didn’t think much of participating in their riskiest operation to date, she doesn’t think much of anything in general anyways, but the same can’t be said about her brother. Even in all his theoretical might, it took him a couple of weeks just to come to terms with it, let alone get ready just mentally. He isn’t afraid of Tyl Regor or anything, he just knows there is no way for him to guarantee his own safety or Deinos’ once he’s down there, that is what he fears the most.

“Have you done your prayers already?” Alad tries to lift up the mood with a bit of a silly question “We’ll be there in two minutes, I hope you’re ready for what’s up ahead.“

“At least we aren’t coming in hot.” Pegasus comments, seeking for anything he can grasp as a positive. “More cold than anything.” he tries to joke. He’s glad to at least push a little chuckle out of Alad, turning the air just slightly less somber as both frames grab their gear and walk towards the ship’s exit, followed by their creator, who goes past them and places his hands over the controls once again. Instead of pressing anything right away, he keeps his eyes turned towards both Pegasus and Deinos, waiting restlessly for the right opportunity to open the door and drop them off Flying past walls, palisade after palisade, the artillery shells come back to give them trouble, as they enter the most protected section of the entire complex, and ironically the perfect spot for both frames to make their descent into the belly of the beast so to speak.

“Alright, is everything ready?” He gives one final question before pressing the button.

“I’ll keep her safe.” Pegasus responds without a single ounce of hesitation, even earning Deinos’ attention, a bit of an achievement in itself.

“That goes without saying, but thank you nonetheless. Opening the door in three…”

Pegasus’ body tenses up as he leans forward to jump off at any moment.

“Two…”

Deinos presses her sharpened claws against the only remaining barrier between her and her immediate destination and destiny.

“One…”

Both frames are bare inches and seconds from punching the door off if necessary, eagerness shifting into desperation as everything around them goes silent. However, their desperate attempt for escape won’t be necessary, as the door quickly slides into the ship’s wall, leaving nothing between them and a greeting explosion that fills their lungs with the distinctive smell of smoke and war. Once it clears out of their field of view, everything right underneath looks completely clear, the only prompt they need to launch themselves off Alad’s ship as it finally makes its escape, leaving them behind and to their own luck and skill to protect themselves and each other.

But first, they have to get to the ground before they can do anything. Normally, this wouldn’t be a challenge, but trying not to get shelled in the face by dozens of turrets aimed in your direction may or may not make that slightly more difficult, who knows. Pegasus, without even showing the least sign of effort, dives and glides past most explosions that would’ve hit him dead-center, dashingly spinning and rolling mid-air as the Grineer turrets focus fire more and more upon him. Deinos isn’t so lucky, barely making it out unscathed from most shells as they travel past her by just a foot or two of distance.

She had to get hit sooner or later. When one of the arm-sized bullets gets fired right at her, she tries to dive past, dodging a direct hit by the skin of her teeth. However, the projectile blows up prematurely, right at her leg’s height, adding unwanted momentum to her body and sending her spinning violently, just as she starts gaining speed and a dangerous amount of distance away from her brother. The sky grows more and more grey and intoxicating, as smoke replaces the clear view above with suffocating pollution that both frames quickly leave behind, albeit under very different circumstances, but not for long.

Pegasus has a good enough intuition to look back and witness his sibling, spinning through the air out of control like a rotor blade at max speed. He knows he has little means to help her, he can’t do anything while he’s still falling from the sky, but he has an alternative, one that will be the greatest gamble he will have ever taken. And so, he bring his limbs inwards and dives down at full speed, barrel rolling past anything that could bring him down, until he sees a platoon of about twenty clonemen, armed to their putrid teeth, standing on his landing zone and aiming upwards, sending a barrage of bullet fire that only adds even more difficulty to the matter. He wouldn’t even be slightly worried, if it wasn’t for the disheartening sound of Deinos’ shields dwindling reminding him that he has a very urgent situation in hand, one that it’s only all the more challenging now that the enemy is opening fire upon them, most worryingly her, and her defenses won’t last forever.

His only remaining option is to grab his customized rifle mid-air, keeping the grip as firm and steady as possible, he can’t risk the piece of craftsmanship just flying off his hands at such a high speed. A single trigger pull is all he needs to end the lives of half the soldiers getting in the way, while the rest rout in fear, nowhere near as valiant, or suicidal, depending on how you view it, as the regular Corpus squadron. Quite ironic, cowardice would be more expected from people on a payroll than a bunch of practically mindless clones, but perhaps not having an active conscience is what brings these people away from their imminent killers, driven by the most basic instincts that couldn’t be taken away by anything, while any vanguard Corpus has to offer would still have a cheque to grab, one that they couldn’t if they happened to die.

Alas. such thoughts invading his mind will serve him no purpose, he can exercise all the analytic cynicism he wants as soon as his sister isn’t in immediate danger. As such, his landing comes with the impact of an orbital strike, crushing two Grineer soldiers to bits under his heels and painting the whole area in bloody crimson. Flying limbs and organs don’t distract him, wasting not a single millisecond to holster his spear and let the pole loose, tossing it at the nearest defenseless trooper and impaling him against the wall. As life slips away from him. He's forced to witness the cruel execution of his remaining comrades in cold blood, gunned down one by one, holes torn all over their beings, one even tossed into the sky just to be sliced in half by Pegasus’ bloodstained bayonet. His relieving demise eventually comes, just as soon as the second-to-last member perishes before his very eyes, and Pegasus’ crystal wings manifest themselves in time for him to jump off and gain way more altitude than the normal leap a Warframe would make.

Instead of daring to try a ballsy move and take off into the skies, however, he roams the edge of the lengthy ground he just fought on, staying static before dashing from side to side as Deinos’ uncontrollable state approaches at full speed. Her spinning brings her to the left, and to the right, and to the left again, desperation rising in her brother as he doesn’t know where to stay or how to even cushion the impact, her distance becomes smaller and smaller by the second, footsteps being heard not too far from there, clearly from more upcoming enemies. Everything just turns more and more dire for them, with very little they can do.

Some drastic, desperate action has to be taken. In frantic wrath, Pegasus descends onto the platform once again, looking at both sides to see Grineer squadrons on the move, only to retrieve the spear he forgot on that corpse he stapled against the wall. Deinos is nearby, way too much for his own comfort, but he has no choice, he will have to make the most out of his precious remaining seconds unless he wants both of them to die filled to the brim with bullets, and the first and only thing that comes into his mind is to take off.

Giving a rapidly spinning Deinos one last glance, he tries his best to make himself an idea of her final trajectory, choosing to go right as he starts to get surrounded from both sides. A single, powerful flutter of his wings sends him into the air, kicking up dust and leaving his enemies in utter confusion that last for a second or two, enough for him to tightly grab his polearm with both hands and descend just as suddenly upon them. The impact alone sends many crashing against the walls of the tunnel right behind their backs, with two unfortunate Grineer impaled against the floor, perishing in slow but inevitable agony before the frame wastes no time to pull his weapon out of their chests and take off into the skies once more.

His prediction is spot on. Just as soon as he jumps off the rail on the edge, Deinos crashes against him with great momentum, knocking all the air out of his lungs and diaphragm, and propelling him right in the opposite direction he meant to take, throwing both of them into the ground as she gets off and keeps rolling violently until she ends up hitting the wall with her back, raising a dust cloud upon impact that only sets off all of Pegasus’ alarms as he gets up limping and stumbles over to where she is.

“Deinos!” He desperately calls out to her, falling to his knees right in front of the setting dust cloud when his stinging ankles finally give up. He left his precious gun behind, but he doesn't care about it, his hands are better placed searching through the dirty mist until he gets a gentle, but relieving grasp on her shoulders that she immediately shrugs off, getting up to her feet and getting ahead without uttering a single word, not even a gesture of gratitude. He could complain right then and there, but he’s of better use if he gathers himself, retrieves his gun before any daring Grineer gets the wrong idea and helps her out in the battlefield, especially since she didn’t notice at all that there’s still an entire enemy battalion right behind her back, clearly not happy about seeing their brethren’s remains decorating the scenery and one of the culprits walking off, nonchalantly as ever. However, it’s clear that she doesn’t want to turn around, so he rolls on the ground and grabs his rifle, still seizing the safe distance that remains between him and their pursuers, giving one last check to his ammo count before following Deinos’ steps without turning his back towards the Grineer.

Run and gun it is, then. Without any further hesitation, he pulls the trigger, steady aim fixed upon the helpless battalion, emptying his magazine in mere seconds while also taking down at least twelve of the most daring clonemen in the formation’s frontline The remaining sentient potatoes respond in kind with their own gunfire, hitting Deinos and Pegasus’ shields several times but not enough to leave them defenseless thanks to their shaky aim, though some bullets go stray and hit the tunnel’s lighting, popping more and more light sources into glassy dust as both the frames and the dwindling Grineer defenders keep advancing further in. Most of the tunnel would be in total darkness if it wasn’t for the contrast exchange of bullets flying around, perpetually maintaining the corridor with a lethal source of illumination that gets lower and lower as the Grineer numbers keep dropping and the smell of blood takes over.

Another empty magazine hits the floor and echoes a loud thump, as both frames finally make it to the end of the claustrophobic hallway, Deinos finally digging her talons into the metal and turning around with enough swiftness to launch her shotgun off her hip just at the right angle for her to catch it with her right hand. Pegasus brings his arm down to find another magazine, but he finds nothing around his waist, looking down to notice with despair that he has run out of rounds. His panic barely lasts as long as it takes him to extend his spear once again and spread his wings, watching as the few remaining Grineer emerge from the tunnel.

Deinos is the first one to open fire, sprinting forward without a single shed of fear in her, blasting two troopers away before the rest try to surround her. The recoil sends her back a little, enough for the Grineer to make a daring response that doesn’t last when they see their limbs and entrails flying all over the place, getting torn to bits and pieces by the makeshift frame and her primal rage.

Just in case that isn’t enough, some of the soldiers fall down one by one, shards stuck to their backs and plenty of holes in their armors. Pegasus’ wings dwindle and reduce in their crystal count, as he uses them as impromptu projectiles that are surprisingly effective, taking out all the remaining Grineer that Deinos doesn’t manage to reach in time. It costs him about half of his energy shards, but he still gets rid of eight troopers with just his crystallized power alone, dissolving what little remains back into himself.

“What a performance.” Pegasus compliments his sister, walking over to see if she’s still intact. Aside from her claws and arms absolutely covered in blood and flesh, she didn’t get a single dent in her protection, not even when she crashed against him at top speed, so it’s a pleasant surprise for him to see he’s been successful in his promise to Alad so far.

“Come on, the entrance to the stronghold is right up ahead, let’s not leave Commander Regor waiting any longer. If most of the fighting practice he gets is with these guys, I’m sure he must be bored to death, he might even make some good use out of getting his ass kicked into the afterlife compared to dealing with these braindead things on the daily.”

Pegasus advances after gathering all the rifle rounds he can scavenge from the Grineer corpses, taking a moment to admire the horrifying beauty of the horizon as everything beyond it burns and clouds the once clear horizon and approaching sunset with thick black smoke. He finds it such a heartbreaking shame that your solar majesty won’t be able to observe them and the making of their gruesome masterpiece even with the best sight of them all, but he has no control over the will of Sol, knowing he has to keep pressing forward, they are so close and it would be tragic to fall back now.

His thoughts get disturbed by a gross sound, almost as if someone was eating raw flesh not too far from him, quickly catching his curiosity as he knows there’s nothing in that fortress that could be making those noises, apart from him when he gets particularly violent with his melee attacks, and…

As soon as he turns around, his horror matches his shock, as the stomach-churning sight to behold caused by none other than his quiet sister Deinos, her back turned towards him as she’s down on her knees and doing something quite easy to figure out to one of the Grineer corpses, clawing away and drenching the sharp ends of her digits in blood, but that’s nothing compared to her… maw?

If Pegasus’ face was visible, anyone around would be amazed upon seeing how far down his jaw would have dropped, incapable of fathoming what Deinos is doing right in front of him. His disgust is shortly overrun by a spark of intrigue, needing to see what the hell she’s doing with his very eyes. To literally anyone, it would be pretty obvious, but he either can’t or doesn’t want to believe it, not until his gaze force-prints it permanently into his memory for him to never forget, and what a sight of behold indeed. Even if it doesn’t look like she’s enjoying herself, Deinos has her face and an open mouth he didn’t know she had, bare inches from the profaned corpse that, as it seems thanks to the chunk of liver hanging from her fangs, she’s hastily consuming. Yeah, sure, she might look goofy as hell with chunks of clone meat in her mouth, a kind of appearance that’s surprisingly cute, especially since it’s Deinos, the embodiment of stoicism.

Pegasus shakes his head to keep in mind that, no matter how silly it looks, it’s still his sibling eating a corpse in the most nonchalant of fashions, making a whole mess on the floor and turning just one single body into an entire crime scene, which didn’t even need her to kill any more troopers. Impressive and brutal alike, he admits to himself as he eyes her bringing a fistful of ripped Grineer muscle to her wide-open maw and stuffing it up with all that raw meat. It’s still a little too much for her to take in one single mouthful, even for her and the actually mighty size and stretch of that deadly upper opening, so she keeps a tight hold on all that flesh, squeezing blood out of it that dribbles down her arm, and lets her teeth shred all that tissue further into smaller pieces, while the rest that gets torn off remains tangled up on her sharp digits.

His attention is driven away, even if just for a few seconds, when the faint glow he senses in her being becomes too distracting for him to ignore. Nothings seems off at a first glance, but when he actually bothers to look more closely, he finds her joints and unprotected spots between her armor, instead of their regular pitch black, glowing with an amber, near fiery intensity, as if a furnace has been turned on inside her, and a cloud of thick, overpowering smoke exiting her mouth when she finally opens it after consuming another sizable piece of her “spoils”. This shine even spreads into her armor pieces, while she blatantly shrugs it off and grabs an exposed femur, snapping it in half before sucking the marrow out of it and crunching the bone into little more than fine dust, which goes down the same way and has the same fate as the rest of what she’s just eaten.

For a very brief moment, Pegasus considers asking her why the hell she’s chewing away at a raw corpse like a wild beast, with little to no regard for her surroundings and whoever may be watching her right now, but he bites his tongue and keeps it to himself, knowing it would do very little as she’s not exactly the talkative type, or the clear type, or the explainer type, or any type of communicative person he would find much more useful, albeit less unique than her current self.

Eventually, she finishes her gross, if engrossing meal, making her younger brother sigh with relief, finally ready to head out and actually get more stuff done than just sit and watch her consume more Grineer. The sight she has to give him, of her armor utterly covered in the blood and flesh of one single creature just to sate her hunger, almost horrifies him, but the disgust and disappointment he feels when he has to see her like that, even if her physical layer of protection wasn’t the prettiest to look at to begin with. How much does the young frame wish he could toss her a towel, or a piece of cloth, anything for her to clean herself up a little and recover any sense of decency as her grand, feral mouth is nowhere to be seen, at least at a first glance, expertly hidden under the layers of armor her helmet gives her in a way that hides this unnerving feature of hers. At the very least, she has the barest sense of modesty to wipe the excess blood from her lower jaw with her hand, shaking it off and stepping over to where her brother stands like nothing ever happened.

“What are you… Looking at…?” She asks him, tilting her head at the remains of his utter shock that still lingered up to this very moment. He stutters, before backing away and allowing her to keep moving forward, with him following shortly after, unable to find anything he could say that may not end up in awkward silence, or a more violent response. One thing is for sure, and it’s that Deinos looks more lively, energetic, less absent-minded than before, constantly moving and stretching her arms while also opening and closing her fists in a ceaseless motion to discharge a new surge of energy that’s just sparked up in her.

At the blink of an eye, and catching Pegasus off-guard, she starts running, acquiring a surprising speed that most Warframes wouldn’t be able to achieve, which her sibling clearly isn’t able to keep up with, falling behind up until he catches up as soon as she brings herself to an abrupt halt, pouncing on top of a patrolling Grineer and clawing away before they can even realize what hit them. Pegasus arrives at another gory scenery, it barely took her about a few seconds to turn the defenseless clone into a mess of loose flesh and tissue with her bare claws, and she gets up to keep going her way like nothing happened at all, increasing his confusion even further.

It doesn’t take them long to find out the stronghold isn’t going to be as easy to traverse as they hoped it would be, the place is filled to the brim with endless corridors, rooms that serve all kinds of purposes, countless balconies and sniper nests, cameras in all the walls and corners, it’s a spy’s worst nightmare. If they’re not careful, it could take them days just to find the correct way up the fortress, without getting captured.

Luckily, Pegasus has an idea. They presume that most, if not all Grineer save for very few exceptions, are brainless idiots walking around with the IQ of an amoeba, and the sense of direction of a drunken blind person, if they don’t have the proper instructions. That only means one thing.

Without even telling her anything, he grabs her by the wrist, an action she immediately recoils at, but ultimately complies, and he drags her through the emptier hallways in the endless maze of passageways and chambers, never ceasing to look from side to side, and hiding behind a corner whenever a Grineer is nearby. They would have obviously been spotted by any of the cameras up to this point, but there’s no need for them to raise their alarms prematurely, drastic measures won’t be necessary until their presence is announced through the speakers hanging from the ceiling.

And of course, that doesn’t take long. As soon as Deinos sticks her foot out of the corner, the announcement is given, and both frames bolt out into the corridor as fast as they can, guns blazing and bringing down anything that gets in their way. What the Grineer lack in competence, they sure make up for with numbers, forcing the siblings to make more awkward, rushed turns just to run into more enemies.

Suddenly, when they stop right in the middle of another hallway that leads nowhere, they find themselves surrounded from both sides, a situation all too familiar to them, Grineer that add up to about sixty blocking their only means to escape. Of course, it’s not like they’re not prepared for a messy fight, but avoiding any conflict that could end up in injuries is their preferable route, they better find another way to get the hell out of there.

While Deinos lets her claws be visible to the already trembling clonemen, Pegasus seizes the distraction to take a quick look around. He better hurry before another damn hailstorm of bullets gets fired in their direction, and although it would be quite easy to repeat the stunt he did at the bridge back on his first mission, he would rather not try it out in such a confined space.

His salvation comes in the shape of a vent, still not open, but a quick and strong enough kick should be about enough to knock the lid off. The real challenge will be nailing the timing, especially since bullets are already flying all over the place. His train of thought was incredibly fast and effective, that cannot be denied, but perhaps he had to put a little too much focus into it, reassured by his shields getting blasted off by a particularly thorough barrage from behind, and Deinos suffers the same fate. They’re truly, completely unprotected now, and even if their armor might be able to take a few rounds, it’s definitely not going to stop a flurry of deadly metal that would put machine guns to shame. Deinos, as always, doesn’t seem to care, ignoring her fully loaded shotgun to adopt a more defiant, menacing state, which would be quite convincing if the enemy numbers weren’t so overwhelming. She should be thankful she has a brother with an actual sense of urgency, kicking the piece of steel blocking their escape route into the dark, narrow ventilation pipe that will now help them survive. Proving to have all the initiative that Deinos lacks, he throws her first into the tunnel, giving both of them cover with his deployed wings, although they unfortunately can’t do much against such an absurd amount of bullets.

The small entrance to the ventilation system lights up with the sheer glow of all the rounds fired, while Pegasus jumps, or rather gets pushed inside. His energy shards protected him from most of the barrage, but he still took quite a few of those projectiles in various spots, not that he minds anyways, his pristine armor was bound to be smeared sooner or later, and any battle scars that make him look more intimidating are always appreciated.

Deinos watches him as he dashes out of the way of another flurry of enemy fire, gaining a tight grip on her forearm, again, and dragging her through the darkness and tightness of their escape route, moving carefully and making turns around corners wherever his memory tells him it’s the right way towards their destination, something he’s not even all that sure about.

Agonizingly long minutes of trekking through vents follow, until Pegasus punches another metal lid off and exits with Deinos right behind. Everything’s clear in this particular hallway, now that he takes a look at both sides, so there’s only one thing left for both of them to do.

Run.

Without even giving either himself or Deinos a single second to process what’s he about to do, he sprints down the hallway, with her following just as quickly, into another hallway, and another hallway, and another, never stopping even when they hear Grineer warning others about their presence, tirelessly hopping from one corridor into another, eyeing the walls on each side and the rooms they contain. Weaponries, forges, storage rooms, even medical facilities, none of these are what he’s seeking, hints of desperation slowly creeping up and bringing his confident facade down to a crumble, the place just looks about as endless as it can get, three more corridors right ahead if he fails at finding whatever he’s looking for once again.

At least luck smiles in his direction this time, when he stops right on his tracks, gaze stuck on a large screen in a room that seems larger and more spacious than the rest. As soon as he hears the approaching Grineer yelling through the hallways right behind their backs, he throws both himself and Deinos inside the room, hiding behind the walls and shutting his breaths when those thunderous footsteps in unison pass right by. The makeshift frame holds her breath as well, sharpened claws tensely pressed against the cold metal behind her back, threatening to scratch and alert everyone of their hiding spot if she loses her temper even for a brief instant. The sprinting still doesn’t cease, how many could possibly be out there? It’s been nearly ten seconds of just Grineer and more Grineer running down that single hallway that has to be at least eighty of them, maybe even a whole hundred, and the frames can be glad it eventually dies down, as the frantic marching grows more quiet.

When everything’s finally clear, Pegasus can satisfy his curiosity, taking a more measured look at the imagery on the large screen that serves as the main feature of the entire room. A wide grin secretly grows under his helmet, when the silhouette displayed is clearly the stronghold they’re currently invading, or rather its cross-section, and a tiny, almost imperceptible white dot indicating their current location. The place is absolutely huge, no wonder they were lost for so long, just trying to make their way to the main staircase through that ridiculous maze of hallways and quarters.

But now, they have direction. As usual, Pegasus bolts out of the room, grabbing Deinos’ wrist, again. At this point, all she can do is sigh with exasperation and let herself be forcefully guided through the complex, this time with an actual idea of where they’re going. Just a few more turns around corners, hiding when Grineer patrols run by, and in just a tenth of the time it took them to find that computer room, they stand in front of a large staircase, wide enough to accommodate eight people walking up and down side by side, completely empty at that very moment, and they still have an approaching Grineer cohort right behind their backs, it couldn’t be any clearer where they should be headed next.

Just as their enemies enter the main corridor, Deinos and Pegasus hastily start making their way upstairs, skipping as many steps as possible. They nearly stub their toes and stumble face-first into the floor several times, somehow still managing to stay on their feet as they scale past floor after floor, attracting the attention of more guards along the way. By the time they’re halfway through, it’s just like they’re the leaders of their very own cult following, chased relentlessly by soldiers devoted to bring them down,, while the bullets they never stop spraying in their general direction keep decorating the walls and ceiling as the way to the top of the fortress grows shorter and more challenging for the storming Warframe duo. The pair doesn’t let themselves look incompetent even in the slightest either, responding to the ruthless aggression of their pursuers in kind, with their very own bullets that, where they lack in sheer overwhelming capabilites, they compensate in accuracy and deadliness, bringng down quite a few of their ruthless chasers. It’s definitely not going to deter the rest from attacking them, but at least it serves at the most minor of reliefs in such a tight situation.

Tyl’s personal fortress seems to have dozens of floors to ascend through. By now, it’s already near a miracle that both frames have been able to survive such an onslaught, making their way further upwards, while all the enemies they kill with ammo that starts running low keep getting replaced by more, similar to fighting a hydra. It doesn’t help either that literally all floors look exactly the same, making it impossible to tell how close you are to the top when you’re just running upstairs. The journey barely lasts a few minutes, but under all the pressure and the circumstances, each second that passes for the frames feels like a century, only brought back to reality when they have to dodge yet another load of bullets fired at them. They would’ve already gone down bloody a while ago hadn’t it been for their combined agility and Pegasus protection, yet they’re still facing quite a few problems that keep stacking up as they get closer to the fort’s summit.

Including, of course, a particular element that neither of them recognize: Tubemen. Better trained, better equipped, far more resilient to damage thanks to their superior armor, they stand out in their performance and stick out like a sore thumb, giving both siblings far more trouble than they are already dealing with, showing up when they make it to the upper stories. Slowly, but steadily, these Tubemen start outnumbering the Grineer troopers that chase Pegasus and Deinos upstairs, as the weaker ones dwindle for the stronger ones to remain and continue the chase. A weird demonstration of natural selection indeed, and furthermore, these elite clones also show far more evident loyalty than any of the previous ones, shouting things along the lines of “In the name of Tyl Regor” and such more than just a few times. A little too on-the-nose, but the Grineer haven’t ever been particularly known for their subtlety, they’ve always preferred tangible statements, and right now isn’t any different. It couldn’t be any clearer that both Warframes aren’t welcome here.

“Boss, goddamnit!” Pegasus snaps, breaking the silence he had maintained up to that very point “I’m just as glad I don’t have to hear your nervous exasperation when you see us like this, as I am annoyed that you didn’t tell me mashing this many potatoes wouldn’t be as fun as you made it sound!”

He headshots another Tubeman right after finishing this sentence, nearly tripping down to his face when his foot slips at the edge of one of the seemingly endless staircase’s steps. Over-the-top sentence structuring really isn’t an ideal stunt to pull off when you’re putting your concentration into so many things at once, and this frame made to perfection isn’t the exception. Regardless, he’s able to pick himself back up as soon as he feels himself falling, barely getting out of the way of one particularly deadly-aimed projectile fired at him while he was still vulnerable. He makes sure to retaliate in kind, though, and his bullet does land and take out the Tubeman that tried to take his life in such a dishonourable fashion.

The haste eventually comes to a climactic end, when the frames come upon their desired destination after such a monumental effort. A large, extraordinarily thick steel door stands in front of them, with all the pride of an entire fleet, blocking the only way forward, or even out of the building, now that they’re this far up and the path right behind is covered by a battalion of clones that aren’t so eager to let them go. As suc, there’s just one more thing to do before heading inside.

Knowing he ran out of ammunition as he was making his way upstairs, he grabs one of his explosive charges, inserting it in the grenade launcher addon of his customized weapon, and enduring one final barrage from his enemies that brings down his shields, he fires at the ceiling, forcing the scrap covering their heads down in an avalanche of debris and ruin that, despite not crushing more than two Tubemen under the weight, blocks the way entirely, leaving the Grineer guard no access to the frames whatsoever, a welcome change of pace for both Pegasus and Deinos now that they’ve made it this far.

Ignoring the constant banging and yelling at the other side of this makeshift barricade, both frames finally seize the opportunity to approach the fearsomely oversized door. At a first glance, there doesn’t seem to be an obvious way to open it, lacking any buttons, levers, knobs or switches that might be an obvious cue to get in, until they give a look at the wall right to the side, to see… A card swiping slot. Great.

Letting out a heavy groan of both frustration and annoyance combined, he sets his empty gun aside, stretching his fingers before aiming a closed fist carefully at the small panel, striking a powerful punch right after that renders the security measure completely useless and easy for him to pull out of the way giving him easy access to the wiring. Just a couple cuts and rearrangements here and there, a little bit of passion and patience later, and a click can be heard coming from the sealed entrance, followed by another one, and another, and quite a few more, along with cogs and gears turning and making contact with each other. The process is kind of slow, pretty loud and uneventful, and Pegasus steps away from the damaged control panel, standing in front of the slowly opening entrance to their final showdown. His spear is sharpened, and ready to see all the action it has been neglected, while Deinos stands back as both sides of the door finally start slowly sliding away from each other.

Expectation fills the “perfect” frame’s mind with all kinds of thoughts that would send anyone else shivers down their spine, but somehow, he finds in his soul the courage to stay calm and collected, when the last hallway separating them from their target is now visible through the door gap that increases in size by the second.

“Alright, finally we can get in.” Pegasus comments, looking back and walking in as the door finally stands wide open “Hopefully, nothing else stands in our way-”

Before he can move much further, he feels a presence right in front of him getting in the way, and when he turns around, he sees nothing, or at least not at his head’s height, so he lowers his vision to see a Grineer… child?

Well, at least what looks like a child. They’re armored like a normal Tubeman, except for some color changes, pale, dusty pink, more visible on the padding underneath their chestplate and shoulderguards, and glowing turquoise set against black. One of their legs is clearly artificial, giving them a very slight limp and a minor difference in height between both living flesh and prosthetic, and a brace is set against their back, seven curved metal ribs on either side of them holding it in place sharing the same neon cyan shine with the electronics of their armor, like it’s keeping them upright. When Pegasus looks slightly up, he also finds that same glow in their helmet, topped by a pink girly bow.

… A bow.

A Grineer. A Tubeman. Has a bow on the side of their, or well, her head. How peculiar, to say the least.

“Hi!” She waves at them, or well, him, surprisingly cheerfully, obviously not yet noticing there’s a feral Warframe right behind the more collected one, or even realizing they’re both Warframes.  _ Yet _ .

“Uh, hello… Child.” Pegasus isn’t even sure of what to say, trying to get out of such an awkward spot as quickly as possible. Who would have thought the “Perfect Frame” can’t handle children? Is it even an actual Grineer kid, are those a thing at all?

“Child? Grineer don’t have children.” she says, sounding confused.

Well, that answers that question. Shaking his head, he tries to make sense, or at least find any, anything that can get him to Tyl without making a mess, and that includes not touching this girl, since even if she’s getting in a way, he can’t help but feel very guilty about doing something to such an innocent little thing.

“Right, I didn't know that, my bad, I’m sorry for underestimating you.” He apologizes in his most sober tone possible “May I at least know your name, li-uhm-girl?”

“I don’t give my name to strangers.” She confidently answers without skipping a beat “Who are you, even? You don’t look familiar…”

He stumbles around with his words a little, thinking of any kind of response as this Tubeman starts carefully looking him up and down.

“W-well, I-no, they-I come from Fortuna, as an ambassador in good will wishing to create a treaty with your leader, yes! With this great conflict raging on, we thought it would be a good idea to avoid any and all hostilities, we don’t wish to get into any trouble.”

“Dagh didn’t call anyone to come here, he would have told us.” Her suspicion peaks to its very limit, culminating in her stuttering and sticking her gaze to Pegasus’ feet and lower tunic, covered in red stains that couldn’t be any more obvious of what they are. The frame right in front of her doesn’t do anything, which makes her fear even more, taking a single step back filled with all the caution she can muster.

Deinos isn’t pleased by this. Taking a step forward and revealing her absolutely bloodstained figure, she wields her shotgun, and in the most ruthless, brutal fashion, aims it directly at the girl’s head, without uttering a single word. Her primal rage couldn’t have found a worse outlet, and the poor little Grineer is so fortunate that Pegasus is there to immediately push the gun away and give her enough time to run away screaming as best as she can whilst dealing with a troublesome limping. She’s remarkably fast too, her small size and light weight adding to her speed. The reckless frame is quick to shove her weapon out of Pegasus’ hands, glaring him down with furious intensity.

“Holy-what-it’s a  _ child _ !” Pegasus exclaims while trying to assimilate what she just did.

“She's prey.” She coldly responds

“Child!” Her brother insists.

“Prey.”

“Child!”

They both shut up when Danya’s screams begging for Tyl’s aid echo through the hallway, reminding them of just how much trouble they got themselves into, although it isn’t like they wouldn’t end up facing him down anyways.

“They are prey, Dagh!” They hear her yell already from far away “Help me, they’re here to bring you down, they want to kill me, please don’t let them!”

Well, if that isn’t such a confidence booster. Figuring they shouldn’t leave their awaiting fate sit and expect them for too much longer, they storm down the hallway unintentionally loudly, sparking an even greater rush of panic from the poor girl they’re accidentally chasing. If she isn’t careful, she could seriously bruise herself with her prosthetic leg, or even break it, but little does she care about it when her life is possibly at risk, putting the strong material against the most stress it’s endured in a while, and it’s doing its job quite well, as a new source of light covers their vision until their eyes adapt to the sudden change.

And that’s when both frames notice it, when the little girl straight up jumps into a large pair of metallic arms, which embrace her with shocking tenderness. Those limbs, however, just seem to form part of a bulkier figure, a hulk of a cloneman, who just got off their chair and doesn’t seem pleased in the slightest about this turnout of events. Such a mighty silhouette isn’t strange to both frames either, they recognize it from their previous heist at that outpost they assaulted in search for information, and if everything adds up…

“Dagh!” The little Grineer girl tightens her own embrace around the larger cloneman’s hips “Dagh, help me! These fiends are after us, they want to kill us!”

It couldn’t be any more obvious, this has to be the commander they met on that screen back then, who also happens to be their current target. They shouldn’t be surprised either, everything was leading up to this very moment and encounter, maybe they just thought they would meet some extra resistance right as they would try to come into the final room, but here they are now.

And of course, their objective is obviously pissed off about a pair of Warframes just walking in and threatening to kill such an innocent little girl, in fact,  _ quite _ outraged. It doesn’t show through his mask, but his body language says it all, slowly raising from one knee up to his feet, placing his artificial hands on his hips and just staring at them, menacingly.

“Did they hurt you, Danya?” He asks, containing his anger and looking back at the little Grineer now running to his weapons stash and shaking her head. This brings some relief to him, until looking back at both frames standing in front of him with weapons raised turns him uneasy once again.

“So you are Commander Regor, in person?” Pegasus opens in a chastising fashion “I have to admit, I thought your legions would be a little more… competent, if you get what I’m trying to-”

“Weeks!” Tyl interrupts with no regard of what this defiant frame might have to say “Barely weeks, and your money-hungry superiors already send you and your partner to serve as cheap hitmen and go after my head. Come on, I could understand if it had been a little longer, but just a few weeks and they already try these kinds of operations?”

“You cannot say they don’t have good reasons to do it, given what’s going on, or rather down, out there.”

“And do you even know why we were forced to do this?” Tyl asks, yet still interrupts Pegasus before he can even respond “What am I saying? You’re with Corpus, they obviously wouldn’t say a thing, and even if they did, they would’ve forced you to submit and do as they demand.”

“That’s none of my business, I’m no politician, I’ve only been made to fight and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Blissfully ignorant approach? I can at least respect it, you won’t be sticking your nose where you shouldn’t, even if it means you’re getting turned into anyone’s lap dog because your willpower is laughable.”

Admittedly, Tyl’s being quite effective when it comes to getting under his opponent’s skin, something Pegasus refuses to admit to himself or anyone else, instead choosing to keep the facade going:

“At the very least I had the will to make it here and face you, doesn’t that count for anything? I also have the will to make sure I come back home with your head hanging from my belt.”

Tyl amusedly chuckles at this foolish display of bravery “Do you seriously think you have the strength to slay me? I thought you would try to break a bargain, or scare me away and call it a day to end all this conflict.”

“Well, boo. Is that enough for you to leave?”

The almighty Tyl Regor finds himself laughing, even at such an act of open mockery, until turning around and finding Danya approaching his flank with a gun that’s definitely too big for her, reminding him of what unforgivable mischief these frames, apparent defenders of the system from any injustice, have dealt right inside his fortress.

“Do you seriously think I’m just going to leave or even let you get away now? Don’t come here and assume I’m not aware of how much blood you’ve spilled out there, from my men, and you even chased poor Danya with the intention of taking her life! Just how much more shameless can you be, right in front of my face?”

“We weren’t even chasing her, there was one single hallway all of us could run through!”

“Liar!” Danya defends herself, rifle raised and threatening to tip her over “Your friend called me prey, you wanted to kill me!”

“Child.” Deinos simply mutters, practically parroting Pegasus albeit lacking anything resembling an actual emotion. This prompts puzzling gazes from everybody else in the room, which quickly fades away when Tyl clears his throat and brings any semblance of seriousness back into the confrontation.

“Enough!” He yells, tired of all the mockery this moment has to behold “Danya, get to your room, now.”

“What?!” The little Grineer can’t believe what she’s hearing “I can’t leave you alone, they will try to kill you!”

“And if you stay here,  _ you _ will get yourself killed instead.” Tyl isn’t willing to concede any ground in this matter “I can defend myself against these lizards, you cannot. Get to your room immediately.”

Her hesitation would normally hit him like an anvil falling from the skies, her eagerness to remain by his side is perhaps a little too heart-touching for him to just brush aside. However, even in all the youth of her mind, she finds a glimpse of wisdom in herself to get the hell out of that command room, when she gives Deinos a second glance, and just how covered in blood all the pieces of her armor are. Knowing better than to push her luck, she sighs with the weight of a black hole behind it, hugging Tyl so tightly that she might leave bruises on his waist before running past the Warframes without taking her eyes off of them. For a brief moment, Deinos raises her shotgun to threaten her again, but Pegasus is quick to get a grip of her wrist before things get any more out of control, yet still moves her weapon-holding hand towards the target that actually matters, Tyl Regor.

“How low do you have to fall to drag Danya into this, lizard?” Tyl berates them, unable to contain his disdain any longer “I thought you would have more honor than this, but it’s clear that I was blatantly wrong.”

“I mean, why are you even getting so defensive about her?” Pegasus presents his confusion with zero regard about the mighty scientist’s rage “She’s just another Tubeman, and Grineer don’t have children as far as any of us know, right?”

“It isn’t my obligation to have to explain this to you, neither currently nor ever. What are you even on about, so cowardly that you cannot admit shame for chasing her?”

“For the love of-we weren’t chasing her, we already-!” Pegasus shuts himself up before his fragile composure vanishes, finally adopting a battle stance “It doesn’t matter, we’re here for your head, and we’re not going to leave without it!”

“How foolish of you, you should’ve known it would require an entire army of your kind to even come close to achieving that!” Tyl menaces, raising the battle axe and shield in his hands as both frames slowly start circling him as he still stands at the very center of the room, right underneath the single, circular opening on the ceiling, giving the night sky free roam to bring extra shine to his figure. In a few moments, the fire and hell they can see from afar, raging on in the distance as clouds of smoke give away its location, might make its new home turf in this very base of operations, the distant light of Lua creeping through the perpetual black of above to be the most solemn witness to this near-holy bout that’s about to take place, with the best seat in the house to top it all off. Each contender squirms a little in the hold of their weapons, reluctant to test each other’s impending might, an inevitable act that hangs over their heads, taunting their bravery to elicit any sort of tangible show of violence, which comes, with Pegasus lunging forward and Tyl doing the same, Deinos following from behind and spraying a roundful of pellets that spells enough peril in the single blink of an eye to freeze time itself, marking the beginning of what could possibly be the end.


	22. XXI: The (Un)Great(ful) Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deinos, Pegasus and Tyl Regor come to blows in a fight that could decide the outcome of an entire war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, don't worry, I don't know how I finished a chapter in two days either, but here it is.
> 
> Once again, another huge thank you to TheWriterValkyrie for giving help with Danya, and the making of this chapter as well.

Pegasus is immediately sent flying, shields blasted off and stamped against a wall by the sheer strength of Tyl Regor’s first strike, which could have ended way worse if Deinos’ shotgun blast hadn’t forced him to bring some of his attention towards defending himself. His shield somehow blocks most of the pellets, while a few more fly past him and the rest meet an abrupt halt upon touching his armor, unable to trespass his solid body protection. Deinos meets a fate similar to his brother, shield bashed right against her head with enough power behind it to cause any other person a neck injury, but somehow all she receives is a minor concussion, taking a few steps back to collect her thoughts and wait for her vision to defog.

She obviously can’t spare any time to do that, rolling out of the way as Tyl strikes don with his battle axe, barely dodging a hack that carried such momentum behind it that it’s enough to bury the deadly sharpened blade of the weapon into the floor, giving Pegasus the time he needs in order to jump off the wall and respond with another forward thrust of his spear, propelling himself with his artificial wings from the other side of the room. It could have been a clear hit, dead-center on Tyl’s exposed side, hadn’t he been the next target of his shield-bashing abandon that swats him away once again like little more than an annoying insect.

Yet somehow, these constant shield attacks had a purpose, as Tyl finally pulls his axe out of the hole he himself created with his very strength, giving it a taunting twirl before forming a tight grip around the handle and scanning the spacious room with his eyes, analyzing the conditions of his current enemies. Deinos is finally getting up to her feet, shaking her head and bringing her shotgun up to her shoulder with a new load of bullets, while Pegasus stopped himself from crashing against another wall by sticking his spear against the floor and stopping himself from any further outwards motion, already dusting off his waist tunic before giving a near-reckless charge a second shot.

As the royal purple cloth around his waist flies with the wind, Pegasus spreads his crystal wings with breathtaking majesty, staring into Tyl’s intrigued, mask-covered eyes, and quickly takes off, nearly touching the ceiling with the top of his helmet. Deinos seizes the chance to unload another round of pellets in Tyl’s direction, which he manages to block once again, albeit at the expense of his back’s protection, completely exposing himself to an already descending Warframe. The stab is effective, or at least enough to render Tyl’s buckler completely useless, bent and punctured as it is after the tip of Pegasus’ polearm goes through it like butter and forcing him to toss it away, specifically in Deinos’ direction to make sure it at least has some final use as a piece of throwaway junk. It’s a good thing for Pegasus, then, that she’s at least back to a competent enough status to move her head away from its trajectory and recover her battle stance.

With at least one mission accomplished, despite how little it did in the grand scheme of things in this encounter, Pegasus flutters away from the fearsome commander Regor before he can get his hands on him, serving as the distraction his sister needs to try something new with her shotgun. Her body under her armor pieces regains the former orange tinge Pegasus saw on her when she was feeding off that corpse, smoke exiting a particularly extended line in her helmet that draws from each side, and he can already make himself an idea of why that’s the case. Before long, that smoke grows darker, and her weapon even starts glowing that same fiery amber, until instead of another wall of deadly marbles, a single, almost solid chunk of energy launches itself off the gun’s barrel, nearly blowing it up, travelling at an incredible speed and irradiating the heat of an industrial smelter. Tyl is lucky that Deinos is so inaccurate with such a heavy projectile, which brings her down to her back by sheer recoil, and the shot goes just short from hitting his ribs, travelling all the way to the wall opposite to him until it makes contact with the steel.

The ensuing explosion brings the entire solid barrier down to less than scrap, bolts and pieces, exposing the mutual foes to the elements, and just how cold Venus’ nights can be. The night sky is breathtaking, just as much as it is the most powerless of witnesses as Pegasus bats Tyl’s axe away from his neck at the very last second, the stars following along with their divine gazes when another lunge misses, and another one, and a third one goes just past the Grineer genius’ right elbow, all before half the blink of an eye, until said hulking genius puts the blade of his axe between him and the pole of the regal frame’s weapon, pushing it off him just for Pegasus to redouble his efforts and Deinos to join in with a fully recharged shotgun in her hands.

Bending down just as Pegasus lunges where his sternum was located, Tyl covers himself with his free left arm to completely block another gunshot fired point-blank at him. It would’ve been a tragedy hadn’t his prosthesis been so useful in that very moment, and it’s going to serve him even further, as he gets a painfully tight hold of Deinos’ calf while her guard is down and pulling up her entire leg, leaving her upside down as soon as he fixes his posture, parrying another of Pegasus’ attacks away without even breaking a sweat. In fact, he keeps blocking as Pegasus’ attacks continue, ignoring another shotgun blast Deinos misses due to her sudden repositioning that sends her efforts right to the ceiling, before ultimately whacking him away when another strike from his axe misses, topping it off by throwing his sister against him with as much force as he can put behind it, knocking him off his feet and leaving both of them defenseless for a few, precious seconds.

Tyl never gets a chance to seize this, however, because as soon as he even tries to get his lethal weapon close to the unprotected figures of the recovering Warframes, a shroud of crystal shards surrounds them and gains ludicrous speed, forming a cyclone of shattered glass that could bring his hand to shreds if it wasn’t artificial. Good thing that it is, he can at least try to make it past this barrier, despite how difficult the sheer velocity of its movement might make it, but his strength and determination to slay those insolent lizards are even greater, so great in fact, that when Pegasus turns around and brings his spear forward to stop the mighty blow, the weapon breaks in half as soon as the axe’s blade makes contact with the pole, leaving Pegasus with a shortened polearm and a useless metal stick in each hand.

Or at least that’s what Tyl thinks, stepping away as the hailstorm of crystals hitting his body gets too unbearable and giving both frames the space they were craving for in order to jump up to their feet and regain their resolve. Instead of stepping away, they just stretch tauntingly, Deinos taking her turn as the one that shall take the lead and keep up with Tyl’s pace while Pegasus figures out what to do with his broken weapon, of course without grabbing her by the shoulder for a second, unwilling to let her get into any danger without his approval.

The contempt can be felt through her helmet as she shrugs him off, shotgun loaded and firing a round right away without even bothering to aim. The pellets, just like before, don’t do much, unable to perforate Tyl’s state-of-the-art armor, and they only seem to enrage him even further, attacking once again with his axe just for Pegasus to get in the way and take the hit for her, his shields going down with that single strike. The only gesture of gratitude she can express is to shove him out of the way and charge another potent energy blast, sending her down to the floor much harder this time around due to her lack of solid footing.

Luckily, the blast hits Regor, right as he covers himself, and the explosion that comes right after can be seen from the very bottom of the gigantic fortress, flashing the entire room with light like the top of a lighthouse and blinding everyone inside. Even when it goes out, the following cloud of smoke makes it impossible to see beyond anyone’s own feet, yet that doesn’t stop Deinos from unloading the rest of her battered shotgun’s rounds in Tyl’s presumed direction, discharging all her remaining rage before dropping to her knees and setting her spent weapon on her lap. Pegasus stands at the other side of the room, not too far from the big hole where a wall once was, and he was lucky enough to cover his eyes just in time before the flare consumed the whole place. 

However, as soon as he tries to run to Deinos’ position, the remains of a mechanical hand emerge from the suffocating darkness and grab him violently by the neck, furiously chokeslamming him against the floor and bending the metal under his back. By the time he looks under his chin, he notices how the alloy that made up the joints and digits have partially melted away, while the rest fall piece by piece with each movement, and before long, a second hand comes out, holding that goddamn axe, with the clear intent of rendering him headless. When the fog finally dissipates for good, and Tyl’s figure can be seen completely intact, his left arm being the only part that took any real damage from Deinos’ ability, the axe has already descended and made contact with the floor, but not Pegasus head, or neck, or any part of his body, as he somehow parried away with the severed half-pole of his spear that his foe thought wouldn’t serve him anymore. It may be a bent, useless piece of scrap now, but at least it found some final purpose before having to get tossed against Tyl’s mask in open mockery of his laughable attempt at executing Pegasus, The Perfect Warframe.

That isn’t the end of it, this challenging frame still has plenty of fighting spirit left in him, jabbing in Tyl’s direction before he can notice and burying the terrifically sharpened tip of his spear into his side, which starts bleeding right away. The Grineer commander grunts loudly in pain, reaching down to grab Pegasus before he can get away, but it’s too late, he’s gone even if he has to leave his melee weapon behind, stumbling back until he’s by Deinos’ side.

Tyl isn’t too grateful about Pegasus’ stubbornness, pulling his spear out of his bloody waist before throwing it out the hole leading directly down the fortress. He can appreciate a good brawl, though, grinning under his mask and even further when he sees him reach around his sibling’s back, pulling his hand away while holding a brand new short sword, giving it a couple tentative spins between his digits as he gets up with newfound determination. Those lizards always save aces up their sleeves in the most unexpected places.

It’s both a positive and a tragedy that Tyl has his very own, if uncalled for, tide turner. Glancing away at the hallway, his battle-hungry smirk vanishes, and his eyes widen in horror when he finds Danya, quickly approaching whilst fighting a bothersome battle with her prosthetic leg and the massive rifle she’s carrying.

“Danya, by the Queens, what the hell are you doing here?!” he can’t help but call her out, attracting the frames’ attention towards her as well.

“I’m not going to let the filthy lizards kill you!” she declares fiercely, her voice sounding choked, like she’s been crying.

Of all the combat types, this one may be the one she’s the least suited for. Thanks to her...issues, she has neither the strength nor the skill to effectively wield a gun, especially one so ridiculously oversized as this. No, with her sharp claws, small size and weight, and formidable speed, she’s been relegated to melee only, when he sends her out at all. It’s quite devastating, then, that there’s exactly another being in the room that shares the exact same fighting style, Deinos, and from what he saw in the camera, he knows she’s far less elegant, or merciful about it, so in this case, he’d definitely rather she uses that heavy gun however she can,  _ if _ she can at all, and stays away from hand-to-hand combat, unless she desires to wear a couple more artificial limbs for the rest of her life. And of course, this is only because she isn’t willing to leave him alone, no matter how much he demands it, he really has no choice.

Upon seeing Tyl’s blood dripping down his leg from his waist, Danya’s first reaction is to lift the battle rifle in her hands with all the strength her little body can give her, pulling the trigger when she thinks her aim is aligned with Pegasus’ head.

“Keel over and die already, you filthy Infested demon!” Danya practically shrieks at him, both of them, the hate in her voice jarring. Such a violently negative emotion seems ill-fitting on someone like her, which only sees itself exacerbated even further when none of the shots land, flourished away by Pegasus, who only has to let his new sword dance gracefully in front of him to push any and all danger she can pose. It’s like he isn’t even trying all that hard, getting up from his knees as his wrist keeps shifting positions about a dozen times with each second that passes, gladius following along as the little girl’s rounds never make contact.

Yet it still serves a purpose, when Tyl flails down his axe while Pegasus is still distracted, not the most honorable of moves but how little does it matter by now, and the frame gets out of the way barely by the skin of his teeth. Moreover, Tyl’s cheap attempt to finish the fight comes at a cost, as now his synthetic hand is being held down by Deinos, who got up and joined in just a moment ago, ultimately resulting in him having to lean back and away from her claws as they graze over his mask, far too close for his liking.

At least Danya tries to give him cover fire again, if that’s worth anything to him over her putting herself at so much risk, and this time it works, tearing her thin layer of shields away while both of her hands are occupied trying to keep Tyl’s axe in one place. This obviously forces her to jump out of the way, and some of the stray bullets that were still travelling in her direction inevitably reach Tyl as he can finally manipulate his precious battle axe with total freedom once again.

“I’m sorry!” Danya yells, voice cracking and remorse filling her being, which is spontaneously replaced by panic when Deinos keeps throwing her claws around, trying to hit the Grineer commander however she can, and Pegasus joins in as well. No amount of gunfire she throws can stop them now, as the more regal of both frames covers his sister with what little remains of his crystal wings, the small shards halting the motion of any bullets that come close with near-sentience.

However, somehow, a fight that would be almost absolutely unmanageable for Tyl, isn’t all that hard for him to keep up with, finding no need to place all of his effort in protecting himself, as he uses both his axe and both hands to defend from their attacks while maintaining an offensive position, achieving special success against Deinos. As a matter of fact, for whatever reason, he’s having quite an easy time gaining more and more ground from her, her movements appear surprisingly slow and sloppy, without much speed or force put behind them, making Pegasus take the lead in order to keep her alive as she’s at the very edge of Tyl’s axe. He expects something from her, anything, a sudden burst of energy or a fit of rage, the usual stuff she does in combat, but it doesn’t go past him either, he can notice just how abnormally docile she looks and acts, in comparison to her regular, far more violent self, and it obviously can’t be on purpose.

This behavior is bound to face consequences in such a heated scuffle, and if Danya’s shots can’t provide, Tyl Regor’s rage definitely will. Seizing a sudden slowdown in pace, he strikes down in Pegasus’ direction, forcing him away by quite a sizable amount of distance, and leaving his sister completely unprotected, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Tyl.

Grabbing her by the wrist when she tries to get her claw to his neck, he presses down, forcing a painful bend and an instant halt to the bout, bringing the makeshift frame to a knee. Pegasus gets kicked away with quite the blunt strength, knocking the air out of his lungs as the small of his back bumps quite roughly against the edge of a desk, right as he stumbles over and lands on his face. As he presses a hand against his now aching lower vertebrae, he hears some struggle, a pair of gunshots, and metal hitting more metal.

But most importantly, an incredibly disgusting crack that makes his stomach drop for some instinct-related reason. His knees turn weak as his form trembles uncontrollably, something that wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for this nauseating shatter, his conscious fighting a multifront battle as he refuses to accept what must be the reality of the situation. Finally placing a hand on top of the desk and pushing himself up, he stares down for what feels like an eternity, giving in to the awaiting site before him. one that he right away wishes he could wash off his retinas.

Deinos’ wrist is still tightly held by Tyl’s mechanical hand, terrifyingly limp, and when he lowers his gaze just a little, he sees the disgraceful, sorry state of her elbow, if it even exists anymore. This is followed by a screech of utter, absolute pain that nearly pierces through his eardrums and deafens him, Deinos’ maw opening once again just to deliver this horrifying cry.

When the Grineer scientist drops her bent, fractured limb for her to clutch onto it for her dear life, his eyes catch her legs, pulled inwards and lying at his mercy, which he has none. One of her calves sticking out slightly is all it takes for him to select his next target, raising his foot and stomping with enough power to make the floor right underneath him shake, and for Deinos’ lower leg to get crushed under the weight of the impact. After two unbearably long seconds of her lying there with her mouth open in shock, her second scream makes its way out her throat, just as loud as the first one, not to outshine Pegasus, who calls for his sister’s name with such volume as to threaten to rip his own vocal cords.

That was merely meant to be a failsafe. Tyl raises his axe one more time, after having secured Deinos can’t escape or defend herself anymore. Her pain is still too great for her to just at least attempt to crawl away, allowing him to get an easy grip on her neck, pulling her up with his method of incoming execution firmly held in his right hand.

Pegasus, somehow putting his overwhelming horror aside, stands up, unwilling to let his partner perish, and break the promise he made to Alad in the process. The short sword still remains under his digits, but it won’t serve for much when he’s half a room away from Tyl and Deinos, and Danya stands even further, all by herself and having dropped the massive rifle she was carrying. This gives him an idea.

For the final time, he lets his wings, rather their remains, sprout from his back. Just a bare handful, an almost pitiful amount of energy shards forms the entire pair at this point, while the rest of the shape is kept by a faint, ethereal silhouette, reminiscent of a constellation were it attached to him. Those crystals take off at a speed noticeably slower than a bullet, yet still fast enough to hold danger in their momentum, and they’re aimed right at the second most defenseless creature in that place.

“Dagh!” Danya cries out as soon as this happens, setting off all of Tyl’s alarms and activating his fight-or-flight senses once more. The now useless Warframe in his hand gets hastily tossed to the ground for her to tend to her wounds, or at least hold onto them to ease the pain, while he’s now the one demonstrating his acrobatics by jumping right in the way of the trajectory of Pegasus’ desperate Hail Mary, and indeed, he makes it just in time, taking the hits that don’t really manage to make much more than bumps and dents in his protection.

And alas, as he stands there to keep Danya away from any and all danger, he’s forced to watch Pegasus’ true intentions with this last move of his. Before Tyl can react in any meaningful way, Pegasus runs over to his wounded sister, still whimpering and disgraced on the cold, hard steel floor, picking her up and carrying her between his arms.

“They’re going to get away, Dagh!” Danya points out desperately, pointing a finger at them as soon as Pegasus is already sticking a foot out the massive hole where formerly used to be a wall. Her heart almost breaks in half when she raises her head and sees him shaking his in denial.

“There’s nothing we can do, Dany.” He solemnly declares, having lost not even a single gram of his authority after such a struggle “Let them leave, they can’t do anything to us now. I… I’m just glad you’re safe, and that’s all I need.”

Without any real prompt, she hugs his waist, as tightly as possible, making him wince due to his still open, bleeding wound. When she tries to withdraw her arms and apologize, he tenderly returns the favor, doing his best to ignore the stinging pain below his ribcage, and making her resume her embrace, albeit with clear hesitation felt through her sudden delicacy. They don’t care that Pegasus stands there, watching the whole time, Deinos now unconscious and resting as he holds her carefully, before he jumps out and glides away when he feels like he’s seen enough.

“The troops must be in absolute chaos down there.” Tyl comments, now that his mind clears up and he can think of other stuff “Let’s go downstairs and show them that everything’s fine, alright?”

She nods, sniffling. “O-ok.” she says, grabbing his hand in both of hers, dwarfing them. “I’m sorry, Dagh. I shouldn’t have come. I made you lose. I’m s-sorry. I just get in the way.”

“We didn’t lose, Dany, or else I wouldn’t be standing here right now. They came here to kill me, they couldn’t and were forced to retreat under awful conditions, and that means we ultimately won. Besides, you did help a lot, they could have gotten away with a lot more if you hadn’t given me that cover fire, so thank you.”

“Y-you’re welcome, Dagh.” she says, perking up like a tiny rose being watered.

Her sorrow seems to fade dramatically, a new rush of happiness and relief taking its place fueled by his approval, as they start making their way downstairs, chit-chatting and making small talk about some of the moves they pulled off and got to see from their opponents, and commenting about all the property damage they managed to deal. Not very clean from what are supposed to be agents of stealth.

If only the mood could be just as positive for the retreating Warframe siblings. Two straight minutes of gliding later, and the complete silence in communications gets replaced by white noise that assaults his hearing, catching him off-guard. He’s already made it way past the stronghold walls, eventually descending to set his feet on the scorched and abandoned soil of no man’s land. As soon as he makes contact with the ground, Alad’s voice, which he didn’t know he would end up missing, unceremoniously invades his ears.

“Pegasus!” Extreme worry is evident through his yelling “Are you guys ok?! I couldn’t check on you two, the signal jammed and then just shut down when you got to the fortress!”

“I’m fine, Boss. I just lost my weapons up there.”

He can almost feel every single gram of relief charged up into Alad’s sigh, which quickly fades just as quickly as it comes.

“And what about Deinos?”

It would be a blatant lie to say Pegasus doesn’t struggle to tell him the truth about what happened to her. His stuttering definitely isn’t reassuring in the slightest, juggling words in his mind and trying to structure a sentence that softens the emotional blow as much as possible. Knowing he shouldn’t keep him waiting forever either, he takes a deep breath, regardless of whether the Corpus genius at the other side hears it or not, and takes his chance:

“W-well, she… How do I put this… For starters, the mission wasn’t exactly a success, since if our sole task was to kill commander Regor, we, uh… We failed.”

“And?” Alad asks as soon as Pegasus finishes, caring little about that set of details.

“And Deinos is fine, for the most part. The only issue is a couple of fractured bones, and-”

“Profit, no, that’s the last thing I wanted to hear!” It seems cushioning the impact of the news didn’t do much, Alad still sounds just as devastated as he would if Pegasus hadn’t picked his words carefully “Look, we’ll sort out the rest of the mess later, just get to this position so I can pick you up.”

“What about our failure? We couldn’t kill Regor, and the Board of Directors won’t be pleased about that.” Pegasus reminds him.

“I... Will deal with that after I take care of you two, don’t worry about it.”

A beep comes to Pegasus’ helmet, and when he opens his inbox, he finds a set of coordinates. Looks like he knows where to go next. Before walking off, however, he takes a moment to look at Deinos, her battered armor, and her shattered limbs. She looks so peaceful like that, a stark contrast to her usual self.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise…”

She squirms and fidgets a little in his grasp when he mutters this, at least regaining some form of consciousness after such a brutal beating. At this, he empties his lungs along with all his pent-up worry, and carries her out of there, following the directions to their pick-up spot, the stars observing their tragedy from right above.

What he doesn’t get to notice, though, is a small, but clear puddle of pure water, and a few small plants sprouting around it, right where he stood.


	23. XXII: Judgement Unrestrained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warframes have a few matters at hand with each other, right as they gather and notify their peers for the impending, upcoming weeks of restless expedition up ahead.

As a few Warframes stand outside a large hall occupied for a particular meeting that’s still taking place, their thoughts wander among the endless possibilities that could be the cause of such an audible commotion that makes its way out of the walls, to reach their ears, even if it’s not intended. These choices narrow down significantly as soon as they remember the Lotus is involved, her gentle voice bringing comforting ease to them when it goes past the narrow gap below the shut door. That comfort, however, goes away just as quickly as it came, when another female voice takes over and brings hers down to a near mute in comparison, but not in an aggressive fashion. If anything, it sounds charged with loads of annoyance, noticeably increasing when anyone else that is inside that meeting hall tries to take a turn to speak up, just to be quickly shut down. What a shame that those that are outside can’t make out more than muffled mumbling and groaning, all that can be assumed is that whoever is getting interrogated in there would rather be anywhere else, even at the depths of the Void.

And that someone is Atropos. Sitting on a chair at the very center, with her legs and arms crossed, impatiently tapping a finger against her shoulder, she’s forced to sit through a round of questions that feels endless, even if it’s someone as caring as the Lotus who is putting her through this.

“Why, Tenno, did you take so long to tell us this?” The motherly figure on the screen asks her with zero resentment held in her tone.

“I already told you, I had to read through all of it first, how many times do I have to repeat myself until you can finally stop wasting my time?

“I’m trying my best to understand your position, it isn’t my intention to bother you. However, I would like you to attempt to comprehend why it is so difficult for us to accept what you’re telling us.”

“I agree with you, Lotus.” Oberon takes a step forward from leaning against the wall to speak “You said you found all of this information in the exact same document you got with Valkyr from that underground facility about a month or two ago, right?”

“Why don’t you ask Valkyr yourself if you don’t believe me, then?”

“First of all, it’s not that I don’t believe you, the issue is greater than that. Second of all, if Valkyr was in this meeting, she wouldn’t let you say a word, it was a preemptive measure not to tell her about this taking place.”

If anything, Atropos just looks even more pissed at this realization, glaring him down with unnerving tension before the Lotus steps in to break the forming wall of ice:

“Moreover, you waited this long to tell us, whilst the document, albeit somewhat lengthy, didn’t seem like it would normally require that much time to read through.”

“It’s not a kids book that you can just gloss over, do you take me for an idiot?” Atropos continues before giving anyone a chance to interrupt “That journal had no names, no recognizable titles, no exact locations, no data. It was just a whole mess from the Old War, a bunch of things I only heard from you people and that I didn’t believe because it made no sense, and then I read this, just for it all to turn out to be true.”

“What exactly did you find about the Old War?” The Lotus presses onward.

“Likely nothing that you wouldn’t know already. Lots of death, lots of misery, lots of fighting against pieces of metallic junk, why does this even matter?”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?” Ivara is the next one to step in “We’re trying to get as much information as we can out of this, if we can even believe it.”

“Stop pretending that you care, I know all of you are stupid enough to not believe anything of what I’m saying right now.”

“Is it stupid for us to be skeptical when you just said the contents of that document tell the tale of a lost Warframe that’s been hidden somewhere here in Venus since the Old War?”

“Two, as a matter of fact.” Oberon adds “And likewise, it’s impossible not to take it with at least a grain of salt, especially since so far, you’ve been the only one to come forward with any of this information.”

“The journal is written in a special language, and thus far, I’ve apparently been the only one who understands it. Do I know why? No, but it’s still the truth, and you should already know I would never make an ass out of myself and lie about something like this.”

“Yet you’re still the only one,  _ the _ single person that has told us something this important, the details are so convenient for you, the exact location isn’t even precise enough to be nailed down, and you said there frames are supposed to be your old squad from the Old War, but there are no registries of them in our data banks.”

“Do you seriously expect an elite special operations unit to just be marked down in history when they were supposed to not be spotted, recognized or tracked down by any means?”

Even in disagreement, Oberon stays silent, and so do Ivara and the Lotus.

“And if little to no official sources have either me or my ancient comrades registered, how could your makeshift faction have anything about them or me? You only had information about  _ me _ prior to this, barely, and you still had to search for my exact location for weeks, so you’re either extremely incompetent, which really seems to be the case, or you refuse to admit there is no reason to not follow my leads and believe me, just this once.”

Ivara goes back to the wall without saying a word, the Lotus just stares at her quietly, and Oberon sighs, bringing his hands up to the back of his neck in exasperation.

“This is exactly why I didn’t bring Valkyr here, she would’ve bodied you two sentences ago.” He lowers a hand and places it on her shoulder “You might think there is no way you can possibly be in the wrong, and we are just holding you here for no reason. However, remember there’s a war out there, one that is barely getting started, and our focus from now on has to be placed on making sure neither side gets even close to Fortuna. They will scorch the surface of the planet, they will bathe it in each other’s blood, and they will most definitely do anything to get the upper hand, and we have to assure none of them get any leeway to create something troublesome.”

Atropos huffs and looks at him “So you’re saying that I-”

“Listen.” His grip on her shoulder gets tight enough to bring her discomfort, uncrossing her legs and resting her hands on her knees “We can’t waste any time searching in all lakes or ruins this planet has, for what might as well be a red herring. We have missions, plenty of them, that require our immediate attention, and if you think your own necessities are more important than any of them, you are painfully wrong. Even if we could allow ourselves to blindly trust your judgement, you gave us no leads, no clear indications, nowhere specific we could search, it might as well be anywhere on this planet, and we’re definitely not going to spend time and resources in a fruitless, possibly endless search, when we could make far better use of our time concentrating on the most important matter we’ve had at hand in a while. So, unfortunately for you, we can’t do what you want.”

Her gaze follows him as he walks back to the wall, a rush of spiking disdain governing her train of thought at such a nuisance. However, she doesn’t hold herself with the same solemnity anymore, keeping her posture straight and neutral, if a little uneasy.

“This has a simple solution, Atropos.” Oberon continues to break the forming tension in the air “Show us the journal, if you have a translated version, and then we will be more inclined to believe you, rather than doubting each and every statement you’ve brought forward.”

“It isn’t my obligation to show you his journal, I don’t even think you deserve to know…”

Oberon sighs and shakes his head to regain all the determination he can to make it through “Just me, then. If you don’t trust us as a collective, at the very least you should be able to share this with one single person, and it doesn’t even have to be the Lotus.”

Extending a welcoming hand, he patiently stands there, waiting for her response, which might take a while since she hasn’t even dared raise her gaze from her feet. Ultimately, and somehow, a long minute of nothingness bears its fruit, when she doesn’t shake hands with him, instead directly proceeding to open a screen right above her forearm, scrolling through menus until she expands a mostly empty inbox, save for two specific documents.

Oberon hears a beep in his interface soon after, taking his turn to check his mail and find a brand new message with no text from her, with the almighty document, translated and attached. The next hour that follows is only remarked by everyone in that room, waiting quietly to let him concentrate with his reading, which switches from intrigued, to confused, and then surprised just to switch back to disbelief and repeat this small cycle, that is until he reaches the final entries. Sorting out these paragraphs leaves him in pure amazement, which lingers even after he closes the document and looks back at an awaiting Lotus.

“The information we have here might be valid, but…” He struggles to find a follow-up “It isn’t conclusive enough with its locations to be of any use for us right now…”

Although Oberon looks rather defeated, and Ivara’s expectation ends in disappointment, the Lotus still remains unfazed, deciding to conclude the session as there isn't anything else to address:

“As such, you will be deployed alongside Wisp, Valkyr and Limbo, in an expedition at the frontlines of this conflict, to keep both sides on check. If either of them grows too strong for us to stop them, we’re not sure if we’ll be able to keep the region under control, or even the entire planet, that’s why you’ll be tasked with sabotaging, delaying reinforcements, disrupting communications, generating distrust and causing mass desertion. You will remain on the field for a while, so I hope you can grow accustomed to each other’s company.”

“As long as they don’t slow me down…” Atropos pretty much mumbles to herself, visibly and audibly disgruntled.

“And you, Oberon, Ivara, will remain inside Corpus territory, infiltrating into their facilities, gathering intel, and most importantly, locating and destroying the remaining dockyards, to ensure they’re unable to complete their dreadnought, and you will be accompanied by Betelgeuse and Excalibur.”

“As you wish, Lotus.” Oberon bows in respect to her authority, and so does Ivara, while Atropos sits and looks at the screen, not even considering recognizing the Space Mother’s status in the slightest.

The session ends soon after, without much else being said apart from departing farewells as the signal goes away. Atropos doesn’t get up from her seat until Lotus’ screen turns off and the other two frames leave the room. Even when they’re gone, she stays there, by herself, alone with her mind, her thoughts, and her grudges. Without her being aware, Oberon stands by the still open entrance, observing her quiet contemplation, still at the center and facing her silent judgement. The contents of the journal might have not been so relevant thus far, sure… But he can’t shake off the sorrow he felt when he read that last entry about Natah, and considering what Umbra told them a while back, it simply adds up, even if he refuses to accept it so quickly.

“As dust comes to wind... The triumphs we win-no, that doesn’t sound right.”

His attention is stolen away by someone right behind him, who turns out to be Valkyr, holding a small screen above her forearm, and writing down sentences just to delete them right after, over and over again.

“Goddamnit, Oberon.” She’s the first one to speak before he can acknowledge her presence “Look, I’m just not good at making poetry, not even as a pastime, why did you even tell me to do this while you were busy?”

“Don’t beat yourself down like that, Valkyr. With enough practice, you’ll be able to compose something pretty, you just have to keep trying.”

“I don’t even enjoy it, you big bull. It’s boring, it’s annoying, it’s difficult, and I don’t even get what the payoff is supposed to be!”

“Firstly, I’m an elk. Secondly, the payoff for making art is being able to appreciate that you've made something beautiful with your talent and effort alone.”

“Well, I’m not talented enough for this crap, I’m more of an action girl, and I don’t want to pour effort into what will end up being awful either way.”

“Just keep trying, you’ll eventually get the hang of it.” Oberon gently encourages her, leaving her scratching the top of her helmet while looking at the now blank page in front of her. They’re both interrupted by Atropos hastily making her way out of there, shoving Oberon to the side and catching Valkyr’s attention with her rudeness.   
  


“What’s up with her this time?” She asks, irked right away upon the sight of this behavior.

“Well, she’s going to be your regular mission partner from now on, along with Wisp and Limbo, so you better get ready and friendly for the next few weeks, maybe months of action.”

The look she gives him could make an entire army flee in terror by just the sole furious irritation shot from her eyes, which reaches a breaking point when Oberon nods to confirm her greatest fear.

“You have to be kidding me!” Her wrath attracts the attention of everyone standing nearby, Atropos included, who looks back in dread at the show of sympathy, or lack thereof, to leave the scene with even greater indignation welling up in her being than before. Normally, such immaturity would be responded to by toughening disappointment, or a sudden snap back into reality to inject some sense into her wrathful mind, yet her peers don’t do anything, they silently spectate her ire with a strange sense of understanding, right up until she calms down just about a couple of minutes later. At least she didn’t melt down into a furious rant this time.

“If you have an issue with it, speak with the Lotus, losing your mind in the middle of the street isn’t going to help your case.” Oberon remarks soberly, even going as far as teasing her by putting two fingers on her helmet, which she bats away almost clockwork.

“Don’t patronize me now! Why don’t you stop being useless and go put those fingers somewhere else they might be more useful, like up Ivara’s-?!”

Oberon’s sharp, judging glare shuts her down before her retort can escalate any further. Who knows what could’ve happened had her imprudence met no blockade at that very moment, but it most likely wouldn’t have been a positive experience for any parties involved.

Without uttering a single word, he sighs, takes a quick turnabout, and walks to the nearby shipyard with Ivara right behind his back, and without anything else to eavesdrop, the crowd near the now empty conference hall disperses and goes their separate ways, leaving Valkyr as the last frame standing in that place, by herself, and no one to share her lingering frustration with.

At least she should go speak with her new squadmates, since they seemingly will stick together for a while. Limbo shouldn’t be too hard to find, constantly roaming around the alleys and corridors whenever he isn’t speaking with someone and given how much conversation he can get in a single day, he likely will be in a group or gathering, discussing anything that comes into mind.

Just a few minutes of calm, boring searching and bingo, she’s found him near one of the water pools, actually alone, a rare sight for Valkyr. He waves a hand in the air, a friendly gesture that she’s quick to reciprocate as they come face to face.

“Is something the matter like usual, valkyrie?” His amicable, yet mischievous tone forces a sigh out of her lungs, unable to say no to such a lack of hostility.

“We’re going to be squadmates from now on, isn’t that fantastic?”

“Be careful with how much excitement you express through your voice, you might raise my hopes for once.”

Rolling her eyes under her helmet, she groans at his clearly sarcastic commentary, lightly punching his shoulder with a little more strength than either of them anticipated, pushing him over the edge of the pool and into the cold water. The initial shock fades for Valkyr, as she begins laughing her ass off wholeheartedly, while Limbo thrashes and splashes away by the sheer drop in temperature that embraces him against his own will.

“Careful, Limbo, you don’t know how to swim!” She openly mocks him before extending a hand for him to grab tightly and pull himself up. Instead of getting to his feet, however, he drags her down, leaving her as the damn cold pool’s next victim while he gets out and dries himself up a little, waiting for her to emerge at a safe distance to not get tossed back in.

“Now we are even.” He slyly comments, taking a few steps back as she exits the water with quite the frown under her helmet, which she translates into a tight grapple on his shoulder and a frantic shake of his body, pushing him back and forth for a solid ten seconds until he’s stunned and dizzy by motion sickness.

Eventually, they both sit at the edge of the pool, waiting for his nausea to wear off and his senses to go back to normal, a process that doesn’t take longer than a minute.

“I thought you would be more excited about working with me.” He restarts their previous conversation from earlier, keeping up his teasing tone without turning utterly abrasive. 

“I am, I really am, don’t get me wrong!” She replies nervously “It’s just that it doesn’t outshine how cumbersome it will be to deal with so much work for the next few weeks, and then those other two are going to be following us around at all time and-”   
  


“Other two? Who are you referring to?”

His curiosity and lack of knowledge catches her off-guard, wondering if the Lotus didn’t spread the word about the upcoming operations next or she just expected her and Oberon to tell their new companions about it. She normally doesn’t act around them with such secretism, sparking a sense of suspicion in Valkyr that she wouldn’t direct to the Lotus under any other circumstances.

“Wisp and-”

Before she can even finish her sentence, Limbo groans with a shocking amount of annoyance and disappointment put behind it, taking her aback until he sighs with a certain sense of acceptance that still feels off.

“Do you… Have an issue with her?” She asks cautiously.

“I wouldn’t call it an issue per se, but I won’t be swooning over having her as a squadmate for any of the duration of our operation either.”

“Did anything happen between you two?”

“Nothing too important, I just need her to keep her distance for the time being, and please don’t ask her about this, I’d prefer this matter doesn’t get spread and gossiped about.”

Valkyr nods understandingly as the words she never managed to get out come back to her:

“There’s also…” She sighs heavily “Atropos. Atropos will be with us as well.”

Initially, she expects a sudden, abrupt drop in mood by just pronouncing her name alone, which never comes in any form or capacity, as instead of dismay, disgust or rejection, any kind of negative reaction, all Limbo does is think, more intrigued than anything. Her jaw drops, only held from falling to the ground by her helmet, and then she shakes her head in an attempt to shake off the disbelief and say anything coherent.

“D-did I miss something? Did I miss anything?! You are actually fine with that entitled bitch, but you can’t bear Wisp’s presence for whatever reason!”

“I think you’re missing something here…” Limbo backs off a little as she starts getting riled up.

“Missing? I’m missing shit! How can you stand that twat but not Wisp?! It makes no sense, it’s not fair to her!”

“I agree, it wouldn’t be fair, if she didn’t cause me the aforementioned bother. Atropos might not be the easiest to talk with, sure, I admit that much, but at the very least she has never been a nuisance.”

“At least not with  _ you _ , either that or you’re some sort of saint to not feel any kind of resentment towards her stupidity! Come on, how can’t you see what I mean? There is  _ no one _ in the faction that she doesn’t hate, yet you can still bear with that?”

“This is my choice, Valkyr, not yours. I’m not telling you to do the same as me, and you’re not my soulmate or anything either to just try and tell me what to do.”

“Limbo, please!” She angrily begs him, hoping he can finally understand whatever her point is.

“Why are you so insistent about this, valkyrie?”

“Because she’s an absolute bitch and you shouldn’t trust her so easily!”

“Can we please brush this off? I’d rather not-”   
  


“Don’t try to shove it away now, bloody hell!”

Thoroughly spent, Limbo doesn’t pronounce a single vocal when he gets up and turns around to quickly leave her, ignoring a couple calls for his name from her that spell more genuine concern than anything. It doesn’t take long for her to realize how futile her efforts are, as he turns around the corner to leave her field of view, leaving her on her own once again. It’s now twice on her track record so far today that her opinions shoo people away, not the most stellar of displays, quite depressing for her.

She should go talk with Wisp next, since she knows Limbo won’t do it, and although she definitely wants Atropos out of the party, she might as well just not do anything about it and give in. She owes both Limbo and Oberon that much now anyways, and perhaps she won’t be too bad company in the long run, despite how irritating she’s been thus far.

Meanwhile, Oberon and Ivara slowly make their way together towards Excalibur’s orbiter. He hasn’t left the ship too often or for too much time ever since Umbra’s return, and finding him in peaceful meditation when they enter his vessel isn’t a strange sight at all. He’s quick to get to his feet and stretch a little when they go up the small ramp and reach the navigation board to greet him directly.

“What’s the reason behind my sudden merit to receive your visit today?” He asks them with surprising politeness, maintaining a firm posture.

“Well, you’ve been assigned to our squad along with Betelgeuse to enter Corpus territory and destroy the remaining dockyards, so we obviously had to let you know.”

“Sounds like a plan, but I’m not sure if bringing me along might be the best idea.”

“Why do you say that?” Ivara asks with caring concern.

“Reasons.” He’s quick to dismiss it “Besides, you may want to tell the other kid as well, if you haven’t already, and if he even complies.”

“We were going to do just that when we were finished with you, and why wouldn’t he accept the offer?”

“Do you remember his sister? She’s still floating inside her pod, and he won’t be willing to leave her alone for too long. Your mission’s description thus far indicates that it’s going to be a lengthy one.”

“And you are correct.” Oberon confirms, allowing him to continue right after.

“Hence why he wouldn’t want to come. You can try to convince him, and he might eventually follow us, but don’t expect him to ever be anything less than an anxious mess at all times.”

“I sympathize with the kid, I won’t discard his reasons to be scared. However, maybe he should grow a little bit of a spine and form up some courage, and perhaps separating him from his sister would help kick start that process. Aldebaran will be perfectly safe here, under the care of all the other frames that choose to stay in Fortuna, and as soon as he can accept that truth alone, we can proceed.”

“I wish you good luck with that, then. I will start preparing everything for the expedition, you may want to do the same when you’re finished with Betelgeuse.”  
  
“Noted.” Oberon confirms, walking out of the ship with Ivara as he waves off a farewell to Excalibur, hoping to meet him on the field. His mind can’t seem to be able to wander off the future task at hand, focused on the time and the peril that will be waiting up ahead for them. It’s just more Corpus they’ll be facing, it shouldn’t be anything special, yet he concedes to himself that they’ve never challenged such a large amount of troops consecutively. It could be the very first time in a while, if ever, that their survival could be put into question, yet he doesn’t feel a single gram of fear. it’s his duty, Ivara’s duty, Excalibur’s, Betelgeuse’s, everyone’s duty, and it just happens that this time they’ll be working amongst open warfare.

They’re going to have one hell of a journey for the following weeks, that much is certain.


	24. XXIII: Scorched and Scorching Horizons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warframes make their way to the beginning of their expeditions, while Betelgeuse visits a disturbing piece of the greater, ominous past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, something tells me that I'll have to extend the length of the story from 37 chapters up to possibly 43, due to certain spacing and narrative necessities, so I want you guys to tell me what you think. Thank you!

For most people, the thought of treading through toe-freezing snow and ice with little time to rest or spare, endlessly assaulted by the sole element of excruciating blizzard that keeps burying them under more and more meters of sub-zero torture, would unnerve them for months with no end, terrifying them down to their very bones and turning them into sheepish men and women that would dare turn their eyes to a single snowflake.

Warframes, however, are most certainly not like most people. They aren’t as easy to freeze to death, their willpower knows better than to stay childishly scared at the wonders of nature, and determination won’t let fear or self-doubt overwhelm their sense of duty, not when they have such a monumental task waiting for them.

Yet for now, just treading through snowy hills and mountains, an almost infinite landscape of pure white laid before their eyes while their footsteps are imprinted in the softness of it all, to be buried under a new layer just as quickly. Their heavy weaponry isn’t weighing them down, yet, carrying all kinds of demolition and anti-vehicle guns, weapons, and even missiles inside a couple boxes on their backs. It won’t last forever, and it may not even serve them for much more than a raid or two, but it’s still a start, and if they’re lucky enough, they might be able to find more by looting instead of requesting supplies from allied forces.

The directions both parties took are exactly opposite to each other. While Valkyr and her squad head south to the heat of the conflict between Corpus and the invading Grineer Third Army, Oberon advances with his group to the northern, more developed territories, where most bases and settlements in the planet are located. Bringing their orbiters with them at all times would’ve been a great idea, weren’t it for the hundreds of outposts sprinkled in between the labs, fortresses and factories that dominate a landscape that would otherwise be a frozen wasteland. Unless they plan to make an emergency escape at any point, they won’t be flying those ships for a while.

Alas, the trek on foot wasn’t really too long or perilous either, the distinct, blocky sight of Corpus architecture showing up in the horizon, way more than they're accustomed to. Thousands upon thousands of different buildings, separated by varying lengths of distance, from meters to kilometers, bathe the scenery with ugly, dull gray and shining metal alike, without even taking into account the miles of barbed wire, wall and fences placed around the larger fortifications. Truly the heartland of Corpus in Venus, it would take years of besieging and raiding to subdue the region and its inhabitants, that’s why Oberon and company won’t dare do such foolishness, their weeks, perhaps even months inside enemy territory will be hidden under the shadows and subterfuge, as a segway into the explosive culmination that will be blowing the dockyards up to smithereens.

“Say, Betelgeuse.” Oberon breaks the silence of the long journey “Will you be up for showing us some of your fireworks at some point?”

Betelgeuse doesn’t respond, remaining quiet at the end of the line as they keep advancing slowly, but steadily. This obviously weirds out Oberon, whose concern accidentally spreads to the rest of the group, turning their heads to the absent-minded frame. He keeps ignoring them, not even quite listening to their words or acknowledging their curious gazes, just moving forward, a subconscious autopilot set off on his senses. He’s not even aware of his surroundings, it would be shocking if he actually knows he’s going up a snow-clad hill, headed right towards Corpus territory. No matter how harshly the elements assault him, he’s currently caged inside the depths of his psyche, but what for?

The fire. The smoke, the heat, the intoxicating carbon entering and exiting his lungs, that’s all he can smell, and all his eyes can see is red, orange, glowing amber, drowned under thick black that even covers the sight above, the stars won’t be peeping through such a ferocious curtain of suffocating death. His feet stand on top of scorched earth, bricks and pieces of marble laying broken and wasted nearby, and the sparks and particles of carbon dioxide choking his breath are soon accompanied by the ever-so-familiar scent of death, burning death. He can’t see them, he can’t touch them, he can’t even remember what corpses are producing that atrocious stench, what they look like, what faction they belong to. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t seem to be able to remember where he is either, although he can kind of make out the planet by just the sight of actual grass, even if it’s been reduced to ashes.

It’s Earth, but either in its ancient form, due to no thick jungles covering his barely visible horizon, or a very isolated shrine of its old nature before tropical hell broke loose and invaded most of the once habitable land. He cannot distinguish much anyways, amongst the asphyxiating darkness of the smoke darkening an already dim-lit night sky.

Instead, all he can do is stand still, powerlessly, patiently waiting for the sickening black cloud around him to dissipate. It inexplicably takes just a few seconds, finally allowing his eyes to bask in the glorious terror of the scenery he inhabits.

A massive, gigantic, terrific metropoly invades his field of view from all directions, to the very end of his visible horizon and even beyond. Skyscrapers that defy the clouds, plazas and commerce centres stretching out for miles upon miles of soil and pavement, gaudy and outright decadent embassies, assemblies, syndicates, offices, headquarters of all kind for who knows how many corporations, and this comes without mentioning the countless, if not relatively infinite sets of apartment buildings, suites, luxurious manors far up in the sky, all pristine white just like the entirety of the city, decorated and highlighted by edges of breathtaking, mirror-like gold polished to perfection.

And yet, all that glory, all that architectural beauty worthy of the greatest of sculptors, lies demolished, torn down to piles and mountains of tarnished rubble, set to flames anywhere Betelgeuse looks. It almost seems as if there’s more fire than there is marble, gold, or steel in a city that must’ve been a bustling crown jewel of human civilization at some point. And of course, the streets, now little more than cracked pavement left and right, front to back, only serve as footing for waste and destruction, completely devoid of any human and animal life, and who could blame them? The region in its current state doesn’t seem like the most hospitable, and by the looks of it, it’s only getting worse, as more buildings that were somehow still up and proud are brought down by their own weight and the collapse of their supporting structures, sending tremors through the already shattered terrain with each one that falls.

A small, but cold breeze sends shivers down his spine, feeling particularly chill on his hands. His sight lowers to discover the source, his digits, completely covered in blood that isn’t his, and his full body-concealing syandana as well, slowly dripping the red liquid down on the calcined soil.

A screeching descent parts the skies, violently drawing his attention for him to distinguish the rapidly approaching object as a projectile of some sort. The shape gives it away as a cannon bullet, a big one indeed, and it’s making its way right towards one of the already flaming districts. Figuring what’s about to happen, Betelgeuse turns his back away, ducks and covers his ears, closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable.

The explosion that follows fills his already shut eyes with absolute white where his obstructing eyelids would only show darkness, and his eardrums nearly blow up by the sheer volume of decibels it produces sonically. The ground is quick to begin quaking violently, forming up even more cracks in the concrete of the roads and alleys that leads to more buildings falling apart, far too deafened under the powerful sonic boom of the missile strike to be heard by him. Just in case all of that wasn’t enough, another shockwave shakes up the area way beyond the blast radius, less potent than the first seismic movement, yet still strong enough to be felt around the area, of course only for Betelgeuse to notice, bringing down just quite a few more structures along with the ones the first earthquake didn’t reach or destruct.

At last, just a few seconds later, he’s able to open his eyes again, to catch the mighty sight of a thick smoke wall, miles tall and high into the night sky, stealing the spotlight and obscuring gorgeous Lua from watching the horror. It wouldn’t be enough with just a single strike, more and more projectiles dropping from orbit and into the atmosphere like flaming meteors, harbingers of death and obliteration, and showering the already devastated city even further upon making contact. One, then another, and another, and another one for good measure, there is no corner, no section, no district of the abandoned megacity that the impacts don’t reach, and the clouds above have been forced to leave and let the thick, unnerving curtain of darkness rule supreme.

“Betelgeuse? Master Betelgeuse?” A voice coming from an unknown source breaks him out of his trance. Before long, he’s able to figure out it’s coming from his inner comms system, a call from a channel he didn't even know he had open. What comes on screen is nothing but static, white noise that leads to no conclusions about the speaker’s identity, although the next few words that come next give him enough of an idea, if not one that sends shivers down his spine.

“Your orders have been executed, Master Betelgeuse, the great city of Eurasia has been scorched just like you requested. What shall be our next objective?”

Orders? He doesn’t even remember where he is or what he’s doing there, why would he be able to recall whatever orders he gave them, and how come he’s their “master” now? At the very least he’s able to connect the dots and figure out he must be in a city called Eurasia, a name that’s only familiar because it’s also the name of one of the many regions in Earth, tainted by the thickness of the land-scarring toxic jungles plaguing the once fertile planet with the cruel intentions of Grineer supremacy. If it means what he thinks it means, then…

“Master Betelgeuse?”

Without any prompt or explanation, his legs start shaking, bringing him an intense struggle to remain on his feet, which almost effortlessly triumphs over his own will and forces him down to his knees. The terror, although hidden under his helmet, stands umatched, upon such a horrifying realization, and whatever memories it’s just brought back.

“Betelgeuse?”

More and more strikes cover his vision with flashing, blinding white, each blast radius purging the afflicted areas from their crumbling magnificence, replacing it with immediate, perilous ruin that lingers anywhere desolation reaches. He has to, he  _ must _ be the cause of all this senseless despair.

“Betelgeuse.”

And all his eyes can see further beyond is further destruction, greater flames, more harbingers of doom falling from the sky right above to bring their deadly gift to the earth, and when his eyes look straight up, a battle is fiercely raging on, warships set to flames and burning brightly barely above the stratosphere. As a matter of fact, one of them is rapidly falling, leaving a trail of burning fuel behind, and covered in fire, it imposingly makes its haunting way to the already ruined city to land a killing blow. It’s coming too quickly, and Betelgeuse doesn’t have the strength or will to leave in time, it seems the explosion will catch him, and this will be the end.

“Betelgeuse!”

Betelgeuse opens his eyes again, after he closed him right before the massive capital ship made contact with the surface and brought devastation unprecedented, but it’s no longer there, nor is the city, the night sky, the fire everywhere he looked, there’s just snow. Snow in the horizon, snow under his feet, snow falling from above, snow that reminds him he’s not in Eurasia, but in Venus, and everyone’s looking at him with contagious concern.

Oberon stands in front, filling most of his field of view, a hand tightly placed on his shoulder, and when he hears his voice again, that call he heard when he saw the burning city comes back to him.   
  


“Betelgeuse.” Oberon makes sure to shake him up a little to keep him out of whatever trance he might go back into “Betelgeuse, are you okay?”

“V-Venus… Right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I am in Venus, right now, at this very moment we’re speaking with each other, aren’t I?”

“Well, yes, of course, that much should be quite obvious not just at a first glance, why do you even have to ask?”

“It’s just… Nothing.” Betelgeuse keeps marching past them, pretending that nothing ever happened, but none of the Warframes present there are such fools to dismiss quite an occurrence like that without even at least keeping it in mind for the future. Regardless, the great wall tall before them deserves their attention a lot more right now, but before they officially begin the infiltration, they should catch up with the others at the other side of the planet. Oberon stops, the rest doing the same right behind, and opens a call, waiting for a few seconds of dead, awkward silence until someone picks up.

“Greetings?” He opens the conversation politely “How are you guys doing over there? Did you make it there safe?”

“Oberon!” That excited voice at the other end of the channel, that has to be Valkyr “Everything over here is a mess and a half, there’s holes everywhere, and I haven’t even told you about the trenches.”

And indeed, all that Valkyr and her team can see are the remains of a battlefield, while flames still burn intensely and war rages on deeper into hostile territory and past no man’s land. Plenty of the snow has been pushed out of the area to make room for dirty soil and watery mud that turns the terrain into an absolute nightmare to traverse, it’s a good thing that they’re not in a hurry, and they can take their time hopping from clear patch of land to clear patch of land without falling into the pits and sunken parts of the dirt their footsteps are kicking up.

Abandoned and destroyed outposts and barricades alike decorate the scenery as well, once belonging to both the Grineer and Corpus, although they’re not too many in comparison to the amount of pits, holes, traps and trenches nearby. Logistics can only take you so far when warfare can turn the terrain into a nightmarish landscape, near-impossible to traverse by regular methods, and going airborne would be just as much of a challenge due to the obvious threat of getting shot down.

The fire and the explosions in the distance clearly indicate where they are headed, they keep advancing through the difficult terrain under their feet, knowing it could collapse at any second. Another artillery strike and its following pile of smoke makes them stop for a moment, giving them the time and attention they should and do use to focus on hearing the gunfire. Thousands are fighting, aiming to take each other’s lives, a crazy thought in hindsight, yet under the grim circumstances taking place before them as they double their pace through the uneasy, devastated field, it all makes sense.

“And how are things over there?” Valkyr asks Oberon “Any obstacles getting in your way yet?”

“Well…” Oberon looks up to the very top of the wall raised in front of him “I would say we might have something in our hands at the moment, but nothing we can’t get around.”

“Lucky you, and you aren’t stuck with unpleasant company either.”

“That was perhaps a little uncalled for.” Limbo’s voice can be heard from somewhat afar.

“Ok, maybe not you, but Atropos has been complaining nonstop throughout the entire journey, and Wisp has been acting like a scaredy cat for no reason.”

“I’m sorry!” Wisp declares sheepishly, bowing off-screen.

“It’s not my fault that you chose to leave our orbiters so far behind when we could have saved the bother of walking a long stretch.” Atropos defends herself with shallow authority, and Oberon can see Valkyr shake her head, still walking forward.

“I just wish you good luck finding a way to get inside, something tells me that you’ll need it.”

“Is it your competitive spirit?” He doesn’t miss the chance to tease her.

“Hey, of course not, I’m just trying to keep a friend like you safe!” She responds just the way he expected “And don’t come saying that kind of stuff at me, I’m sure someone else would be more than happy to get treated like that, like Iv-!”

Oberon cuts the call before she can finish, while Valkyr sighs in defeat and keeps moving, not even attempting to open communications again.

“I can’t with those two, I swear…” She comments to herself, jumping over yet another trench that’s starting to collapse into itself.

In the meantime, Oberon tests the softness of the ground below his feet by prodding it with the tip of his staff. He keeps doing this for a little while, walking along the edge whilst followed by the rest as they keep looking around making sure no guards come around patrolling at the top. Eventually, he finds the perfect spot, just feeble enough to sink his staff into it beyond the sharp tip.

“Alright, this should be it, let’s start digging.” He announces giving his staff a second use by throwing chunks of wet dirt away and forming up a sizable hole. Sensing what he’s trying to accomplish, the rest are quick to hop in and help with whatever means they have to push all that dirt and rocks out of the way. It definitely isn’t the classiest of things a Warframe to do, but anything to avoid setting off the alarms of an entire region right away, or at least too soon.

It only takes a few minutes of continuous digging to reach the dead end Oberon was seeking. Corpus isn’t stupid, they wouldn’t wall just on the surface, and as such, they filled the ditches that later became the base for the subsequently raised wall, by filling them up with tons of molten steel. They path is blocked for them both above and under the surfaces.

It’s a good thing, then, that they brought a few explosives with themselves, knowing they would sooner or later come in handy. Being the expert in setting up detonations that he is, Betelgeuse takes a step forward, albeit lacking the usual determination he has in these kinds of situations, bomb in hand, and with a single swat, he slaps it against the metal barrier, as Oberon’s already dragged out everyone else from the tunnel. Betelgeuse is the next one to exit, detonator in hand, and as soon as his entire body is out, he presses the button, an explosion following almost immediately, muffled by being underground just enough for them to be the only ones to hear it.

Luckily, nothing on the surface collapses, making them able to walk back into the small passage hidden underneath to find the pleasant sight of a hole in the barrier, just about large enough to let them through. It’s only a matter of digging through the rest of the way until they come out at the other side, and surprisingly, such a lowly task doesn’t take them longer than a few minutes before they think they’re far enough. They can’t be sure just yet, of course, one of them needs to poke their head out and look around, an objective Excalibur accepts while the rest make a hole straight upwards, and once the orifice is finished, he jumps up, grabs the edge and pushes himself up just about enough for his head to stick out. Expecting silence ensues, due to the others not desiring to disturb him mid-task, finding nothing much better to do than to just wait around quietly. Betelgeuse sits down, hugging his own legs tightly against his chest, while Oberon and Ivara remain right below Excalibur just in case something tries to take him either down or away.

It is quite the relief, in that case, that this danger never comes, instead being met with good news in the form of the scouting frame lowering his arm to give them a thumbs up, confirming that everything is clear for them to jump out, and that’s exactly what they do almost right away, first letting him pull himself to the surface for them to be next to get out of the tunnel, just to get startled by the nearby sight of a Corpus patrol, no more than eight men marching in a line, but still perilous as they could alert the entire garrison of their intrusion. They’re lucky that they can hide under the shadow cast by the massive defensive structure raised behind their backs, remaining there while the enemy guards pass by painfully slowly.

At the very least they have a much clearer view of the great extent of enemy territory they’re getting themselves into. Plenty of the land is just unused snowlands and roads connecting all facilities with each other, but even then, the size and quantity of Corpus structures in the area is like nothing they’ve ever seen before, it’s going to be a nightmare just to try and stay under the radar for such a long period of time while destroying the dockyards one by one at the same time.

Valkyr should be grateful that her task is nowhere near as stressful or difficult, at least not yet, since for now her and her group have been limited to advancing at a snail’s pace due to the terrain not giving them an easy time moving around, but they’re also getting close to the actual battlefield, where the constant roar of gunfire and artillery turns from a faint, haunting background noise in the distance to the orchestra of terror to take center stage and assert its dominance over anything else. Now that they’re so close, they hop into the trenches, not to join the battle on either side, but to traverse the complicated series of tunnels and passages dug through the ground, leading further and further forward as the clear sign of a former push and a defending struggle. The further they make it through the contrived, branching tunnels and underground passageways, the greater the damage can be seen in replacement for the former state of disrepair they saw a few miles ago, and if it wasn’t for their interfaces containing integrated compasses, they would’ve easily gotten lost in a matter of seconds due to the sheer size and complexity of the numerous pathways that, although they don’t cover much ground and sit mostly concentrated in a single area, still are bound to confound the unaware by pattern repetition alone.

Eventually, the tunnels come to an end, leaving them standing in front of a single, crumbling staircase clearly leading back to the surface. The prospect of what might be waiting for them right ahead isn’t very attractive to them, but a mission is a mission, and they don’t have much of a choice anyways.

“Should we expect a nice reception with tea and crumpets, Valkyr?” Limbo asks in a clear joking manner.

“You can still try, but you wouldn’t be allowed to blame me when your chest suddenly looks like Lua’s surface.”

“W-we could… Still try to get some deserters on our side, r-right?” Wisp sheepishly questions, barely audibly, and nobody would’ve heard had she spoken just a little lower. She still manages to catch their attention, except Atropos, of course, and they proceed to give her curious glances before shrugging in near unison and being shoved aside by the impatient frame that’s out of the conversation.

“Fate save me, you are taking forever not getting anywhere, can you hurry your asses and get us to the battlefield before this war is over?” Atropos complains as she makes it upstairs, the rest glaring at her with growing contempt, although they ultimately comply and make their way up as well.

The sight they meet on the plains up ahead is one of a scorched warzone, covered in walls, barriers, and outposts, Corpus and Grineer alike, on each side of the conflict. For the time being, the field is empty for the most part, save for a few stray souls and reckless bastards that have chosen to stick around and keep firing at anything that comes in sight. Bodies still lie around, armor and patches of outfit burnt, broken or torn apart everywhere, and many of the few structures that decorate the ravaged scenery stand in partial ruin and evident impending devastation. What a view to behold.

“Valkyr?” Oberon opens the call again “Did you make it to your target?”

“Yeah, they’re surprisingly quiet over here, but I wouldn’t call it a ceasefire either, some of these dudes are still out here trying to kill each other.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to infiltrate over there?”

“By the looks of it, we’re going to have a far easier time than you and your team, that’s for sure, and maybe even far more entertaining too.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet, I’m sure these people over here will have a blast destroying these dockyards, don’t you think?”

“Still nowhere near as fun as beating the living crap out of these assholes over here, if you ask me.”

“We’ll see, just make sure not to get yourselves into any deep trouble, I know how you get sometimes.”

“Hey, that isn’t fair!” Valkyr reacts quite expectedly from the other side of the channel.

“That’s true, it’s not sometimes, you actually do it most of the time, but anyways, have fun.”

Before she can even plan a witty comeback, the signal cuts, leaving her huffing in light frustration before refocusing on the extent of tarnished territory upon their eyes. Everything has quieted down even further, letting their presence be dangerously noticeable if they don’t hide quickly, which they are eager to do, rushing downhill to the least populated sections of the battlefield. Meanwhile, Oberon and company keep trying to find good spots to sneak through, even if they have to bury themselves under the snow, thus far not making it to far deep into enemy territory, yet alas, they’re barely getting started, and the same should be said about Valkyr and her group as well. Weeks of work await up ahead, for all of them, which easy or not, may prove to be at least mild entertainment, without even taking into account their sole importance.

“Well, people…” Oberon looks back to his followers.

“Well, guys…” Valkyr does the same, inadvertently at about the same time as her friend at the other side of the world, both declaring in unison:

“Let’s make her proud.”


	25. XXIV: Rounds and Rodeos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both sides of the expedition start off with a bang to begin their long sets of missions ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was absolute hell to write, so I'm just glad it's finally finished (although I still have to write four to six more chapters like this in length and content. Wonderful) and I hope the patience paid off for you guys here.

What a better way to start an expedition than with a little bit of adrenaline? Each end of the operation has its own way to begin, due to the sheer difference in their given tasks, but in a way, they’re both equally as exciting. While Oberon and his group infiltrate a weapons factory to clear it of all hostiles and assess the amount of troops each dockyard garrison may have off the amount of equipment that’s sent off to each location while leaving an exploded mess behind when they’re finished, Valkyr decides that it wouldn’t be a half-bad idea to gather some Corpus and Grineer human cattle in the form of a few enemy cohorts chasing them around, before neutralizing them in a more remote location to clear the area of soldiers and be able to go even deeper into the vastness of the battlefield up ahead. Obviously neither of the methods is the most elegant way to open things up, but still, if it works, it works.

The prospect certainly seems far more optimistic for Oberon’s team, already busting through the unguarded vents at the back of the facility, yet the difference in energy between both assaulting squads couldn't be any more evident. Either Valkyr’s haunting excitement for violence is eerily infectious, or Oberon somehow passed his methodical calmness to his followers without any of them noticing, but regardless, the type of enthusiasm each collective expresses is a polar opposite of each other.

Right as they’re about to act recklessly, Limbo shows some sense of awareness, stopping their group right as an enemy patrol, Corpus with tons of Moa walkers, passes by, heavily armed and extremely cautious of any possible approaching hostiles. The middle of the hills is definitely a difficult area to guard for these people, else they would’ve spotted the Warframe squadron right away without much effort, yet instead they move past them unable to acknowledge their presence.

“Limbo, what the hell?!” Valkyr quietly asks, still sounding remarkably upset “They could’ve been our first lure!”

“Not when they’re this vigilant.” He responds unfazed by her sudden bout of anger “We have to make them lower their guard somehow, any ideas?”

Atropos is the first to shake her head “They’re not idiots, at least I hope they aren’t, though that would make things a lot easier for us. If we’re going to try and bait them, it has to be convincing, and none of us here are good enough actors to pull off something like that.”

“It isn’t necessary to involve theatrics, however,” Limbo comments “just as long as we can attract their attention and keep them focused on chasing us, it’s going to be more than sufficient.”

“The longer you keep rambling, the more likely we are to lose them, hurry and come up with something!” Valkyr urges them, keeping her eyes fixed on the parting battalion. She gets especially anxious when they take a turn around a corner that makes them vanish behind a particularly large, snowy hill, rendering her unable to locate them and bringing the possibility of losing them up to take center stage.

“Could you hurry, you asshats?!” She demands with urgency she can’t seem to manage to transfer over to her team, perhaps because they aren’t even by her side anymore, they separated and took positions when she wasn’t even looking, how rude.

“Wait, Valkyr, before you shout me into the snow,” Limbo raises his hands, rifle still in one of them, as soon as he sees her approaching furiously “I was just about to give you the details of my plan, I swear for my life, but we then noticed they were going away and we had to act quickly, so we-”

“You do this all the time!” She yells instead of getting physical with him, quite the surprise indeed “Could you stop thinking about you and just yourself for once and how grandiose your plan is?!”

“I never said it was grandiose-”

“Well, apparently it was so cool that you felt the need to keep me out of the loop, when I’m the one who’s supposed to be leading you guys, and it’s not even about leadership! Why couldn’t you tell me but felt righteous enough to give this information to literally everyone else aside from me?!”

“I think you’re taking a bit of an odd tangent right now.” he fearlessly replies, which only shortens her fuse even further.

“Shut up, I can’t with your self-servitude! How come you tell all those people before me, it makes no sense, we’re supposed to be a team, you can’t just leave out a teammate like that!”

“My deepest apologies, in that case.” Limbo finally admits defeat, yet for some reason this isn’t enough just yet to calm her down, which makes him back away a little.

“That’s worth nothing now, it all would’ve been fine if you just hadn’t done it in the first place, why can’t you just stop doing such stupid shit instead of leaving me or others out of important stuff or hold valuable information away from us because-!”

“Valkyr, please, they’re getting away, can you berate me later?” He peeps past her with raising anxiety, which grants him a merciful chance to push her curiosity away from him and towards a still departing Corpus patrol that hasn’t yet emerged from behind the hill. her anger is suddenly replaced by full-on panic, as she hastily goes back to where she formerly stood, descending into discretion when she hears him suggest that she should crouch and act stealthily, following him when he gets in front and assumes a new position at the other side of their hiding spot along with the other two frames.

While Wisp uses a codex scanner due to it being the only thing with zoom that she currently possesses, Atropos looks through her Ascalon rifle’s scope, constantly calibrating it and changing the focus, gasping and tensing up all of a sudden, which grabs the attention of everyone else around her. It couldn’t be any clearer, she’s spotted them, they’re finally emerging from behind the obstructing elevation, and the first thing she does about this is to puzzlingly raise her hand.

“You may want to cover your ears.” She suggests, which elicits a less than positive reaction from an already alarmed valkyrie frame, who yells a warning before she can do anything:

“No, don’t shoot, we need to stay on a low profile!” She gets on one knee right next to Atropos, trying to find where she spotted the hostile forces. When this effort proves futile, the other frame notices and points in the direction she should be looking at, finally allowing her to spot faint gray dots in the distance, slowly but steadily making their way through the snow. As soon as she fixes her gaze on them, the nearby Atropos sighs heavily and just stares at her deadpan with forming disappointment.

“What do you order us to do, then?” She questions with more frustration than anything “They won’t be here forever, they’ll just keep marching to a less advantageous position for us if we don’t do something, what is your brilliant idea if I can’t shoot them down from here?”

“Our objective is to lure them into a trap, they’ll just get scared and run away if they hear a gunshot from afar, and even more if it lands in one of them.” Limbo takes control of the discussion, making Valkyr huff initially before she gives him some room to step close to the fateful frame with her gaze fixed back on her scope “I have a plan, which I’m still willing to tell you about, Valkyr, if you would at the very least let me.”

Valkyr shakes her head but waves her hand dismissively at the same time “Fine, go ahead, just make sure not to do that awful shit ever again.”

“Alright, so this is what I was thinking…”

In the meantime, Oberon finds gladness he’s unaware of, in the fact that he has no obstructing conflict with any of his followers, as the ventilation system proves to be surprisingly simple to traverse despite its total darkness. Sure, Excalibur occasionally acts strange, dozing off and even separating a little too far from the group from time to time, but that’s a given due to the possible nerves the stakes of this operation may be wracking from him, and considering how quiet Betelgeuse has been and how inseparable Ivara’s been, maybe the same is the case with everyone else. Little that matters right now, however, as kicking out one of the lids leads them back inside the actual hallways of the factory, cold steel walls and furniture surrounding them wherever they look. The lighting is just as white and blinding as ever, as corporate as a weapons factory can really get, while looking at the ceiling shows them a few cameras that are still on. As it seems no one is nearby right at this very moment, it is no problem to shoot them down, although whoever was watching them through those should be telling the entire building about their presence sooner or later, more than a great incentive for the frames to act quickly. In seconds, they cover about fifty meters of distance through complicated obstacles and sets of staircases, gunning down any camera or lonely guard that gets in the way, but they don’t go as fast as they’d like, Excalibur slows them down with strange antics, like rummaging through stashes of resources, wandering off to kill guards in completely different directions from where they’re headed, or just dozing off, getting completely ahead of the group in dangerous maneuvers that they wouldn’t normally pull off unless each of them was running solo.

Unfortunately for Oberon, it’s too risky to try and stop the whole advance when they’ve come this far, now that they’re about to reach the first of three target rooms where they’ll place the explosives they will detonate after they find their precious data. It would be a shame to leave all those Corpus men with toys to play with like the selfish, pampered children that they are The engines that power the entire place, guarded but not too heavily, and the perfect place to be the first candidate for a detonation. Knowing Corpus, they will have reinforced and protected the machinery with thick layers of steel over the mechanisms, making it practically impossible to destroy by conventional means, which is exactly why they’ve reserved the most powerful kind of bomb they have in their arsenal for these kinds of situations. Normally, Warframes aren’t meant to be demolition personnel, but under such urgent circumstances, anything is possible and necessary, even if it involves carrying hundreds of pounds of equipment geared for a heavier approach to combat, one that they’re definitely not accustomed to. The sheer metallic sound of all that weaponry alone clanking against each other and their bodies disturbs them enough, constantly keeping them on edge of whether they’ll be found out or not, and adding to that the perpetual bother of making sure nothing falls off is the cherry on top for a cumbersome experience. Luckily, Oberon and Ivara have little to no problems carrying such encumbrance, lending Excalibur and Betelgeuse the lighter equipment, thanks to their years of experience out in the field compared to them.

The first chamber to meet their doomsday visit, the engine room, actually turns out to be far more problematic than they anticipated. Two floors, Corpus soldiers and Moas in both of them, and although they could easily reach the top with a double jump, it wouldn’t matter much, they will alert the entire place about them now that they’ve been spotted, a thought that takes Betelgeuse aback and tenses Excalibur up. In a matter of seconds, what was once a favorable position leaves them with no choice but to act, there’s nowhere and no reason to run, and Betelgeuse already has the bomb in his hand, there’s no turning back now that they’ve made it this far.

So much for discretion, if that’s how things are going to be. Without any absence of flair, Oberon raises his hand, tightly gripping his staff, and setting off all warnings the surrounding enemies might have had of them, ensuing with the subsequent sirens that sound off throughout the entire facility, but they won’t just let themselves get caught without putting up a fight for their freedom. Dozens, if not nearly a hundred guns are aimed in their direction, yet they show no fear, no hesitation, save for the dusk frame under the thick, long coat. If anyone here is going to perish today, it’s not going to be them, but everyone else that stands in their way, and the many more that may come.

How little can a bullet do when all Oberon has to do is spin the staff in front of himself with powerful grace and elegance, and if that wasn’t enough, the arriving barrage of hundreds of projectiles, sharpened steel filled with all kinds of chemicals, doesn’t even get to pass him, they’re stopped and deflected right on their tracks while the other frames grab their guns and set up a stance. In a matter of seconds, not a single bullet has touched them, the frames now covering each other with melee preciousness from all directions, as Corpus men grow weary and desperate alike amongst themselves, grouping up and thickening the cloud of deadly metal flying to a single concentrated point that refuses to give in. Empty, useless rounds keep dropping to the cold floor, together forming a loud cacophony, a terrific symphony of controlled chaos that never meets its intended end, a Warframe-shaped recipient that refuses to go down with daring defiance that Profit won’t stand, these vaults shall not fall.

At least, that’s what they would like to believe, but doubt first sprouts when many are impaled against the walls by the ethereal arrows of Ivara’s Artemis Bow, leaving their brains and their consciousness splattered, messy and faltering at astonishing speeds. None rout, yet, although panic can come in many other ways, even if it’s as subtle as spreading out their formation and looking in any way they could possibly run for their lives, a thought that’s all the more tempting now that the frames fearlessly stare at them with their own arsenal of destruction aimed at them, which in no time use to respond in kind with their own flurry of lethal steel and chemicals. They don’t have enough power behind their momentum to staple anything against the walls, but the expertise and accuracy of their wielders makes them all that much more lethal. Betelgeuse’s Vectis leaves thick trails of smoke wherever its rounds fly, which turn even more terrifying when his hand glows and the bullets fragmentate, shattering into the heads of way more soldiers than a single shot would’ve reached.

Not to be outdone by him, Oberon smites anything on sight with holy fire until his energy reserves run dry, recharging with the nearby corpses and doing it all over again. Now that enemy numbers dwindle quickly, they allow themselves to push forward with all the confidence in this world and any other, easily taking over the once plagued chamber, now painted red and decorated by lifelessness everywhere.

“V-very well…” Oberon says between pants “Let’s get these engines out of service already…”

The rest of his squad show varying degrees of exhaustion. It’s nothing they couldn’t handle, but such a tight scuffle was bound to drain them off plenty of their energy either way. Excalibur in particular looks like he overexerted himself for whatever reason, although they can swear they saw him acting strangely during the shootout, showing especially feral and violent mannerisms that are quite out-of-character from him, yet they quickly dismiss as a product of the stress and getting too absorbed by the moment.

Now that most of the adrenaline has passed, Betelgeuse places his rifle aside and grabs a tight hold of the bomb, detonation device in hand, and sticks the explosive right in between two of the engines, right where the blast radius would be able to deal the most damage.

“Are we sure this is powerful enough?” Ivara asks as she keeps wandering around, picking up all the energy orbs she's able to find “The plating of these things looks pretty thick and solid to me.”

“There's only one way to find out.” Oberon reassures her, directing a nod at Betelgeuse once the bomb is settled and ready to blast off, a nod that is met and replied to with nothingness, just awkward silence from a dusk frame that’s lost in his thoughts. Still, they’re quick to hop out of the room almost at the same time as he presses the detonator’s button, running through the hallways once again with a greater sense of urgency than before, now that they’ve been found out.

Of course, not all the frames participating in the expedition are doing that greatly. From the other side of the conflict, the one that’s far more directly involved, Valkyr and her followers aren’t currently engaged in a mighty bout for their lives, they’re trekking, eerily peaceful, downhill mountains and steppes of utter, pale white that chills their blood and their spirits. All they can do, the only way they can presently act effectively for their ongoing cause, is to be the shadow of a patrolling division, about four hundred men and several Moas, and way for the perfect time and place to strike. It’s definitely not what they were expecting, a far cry from the adrenaline-pumping experience they were hoping for, and Valkyr is most certainly the least thrilled about this turnout of events, grumbling and groaning throughout most of their journey to make her disgruntlement more than loud and clear to Atropos, who huffs and ignores her; Limbo, who at least pretends to give a little bit of a damn while keeping most of his attention on the actual mission; and Wisp, who keeps her head lowered and endures an onslaught that, despite not being directed at her, still makes her feel like a scolded child.

Their bothersome journey finally meets a satisfying end, when the top of a hill brings the wandering Corpus patrol back into their line of sight, and this time, the far more complicated terrain surrounding them leaves them almost nowhere to run. They’re not quite trapped between cliffs and unscalable peaks, yet, it’s still a sizable ravine that gives plenty of room to maneuver. However, when Warframes are involved with their demise, any narrow corridor is a hallway to afterlife, if that’s even something Corpus believes in, and this time won’t be the exception.

Before they can even get moving, the group comes to a halt when they notice Limbo isn’t moving, instead looking at the cliff opposite from their position. Valkyr is the first one to put this into question, noticing the confusion and annoyance from the other two squadmates she’s leading:

“Is there anything worth stopping our advance that you want to tell us, Limbo?” She asks with all the irritation her being can bring to her words.

“First of all, you’re not being the easiest person to approach right now, you know?” He remarks, making her sigh heavily, but he continues just as she’s about to spill an apology “Secondly. we have to get to that other cliff somehow, or else this is going to be the most half-baked ambush in history, and you don’t want that, right?”

“Let me guess, you just want an excuse to show off, don’t you?”

“What does one thing have to do with-”

“Come on, I’ve known you for years. this is obviously the perfect excuse to show off your mid-air tricks and stunts by jumping to the other side!”

“I mean, I cannot really say you’re definitely wrong per se, I’d obviously love to have fun with this mission any way I can, but I don’t know how that is an-”

“Could both of you stop arguing like a married couple that hates each other and get onto whatever stupid plan you’re arming between both of you?” Atropos expresses her displeasure with whole disregard for the personal significance this conversation may hold for either of them “Those assholes over there are going to get away if you debate this any further, and if you have at least a grasp of common sense, you won’t let them, unless what you really want to do is contradict the very objective you established yourself, and hopefully you aren’t that stupid, although that wouldn’t be the first time you prove me wrong in such a matter.”

The other frames just stare at them in mutual bafflement, savoring the disbelief of her sudden backlash, yet still not willing to concede to her  _ lovely  _ and  _ friendly _ behavior that easily.

“I mean, ranting about it isn’t going to make it any better, so there’s that.” Limbo points out, earning the most deadpan glare ever from her, which he doesn’t even mind in the slightest, not when he’s already walking towards the edge of the cliff where they stand, readying himself to take the big leap of faith.

“So someone has to make it to the other side,” he reiterates “any of you willing to follow me?”

At first, there’s no volunteers. Valkyr’s too pissed off, Wisp is too timid, and apparently Atropos can barely stand her own shadow. However, the sound and the sight of their targets getting away unharmed isn’t appealing in the slightest, more than enough of an incentive for the least friendly frame in the group to surprisingly be the only one to step forward for the task, a gesture more than appreciated by Limbo. The other two just stand there and observe, as both him and Atropos look down one final time before taking a few steps back in unison, to jump over the edge just as quickly and with all the strength and impulse they’ve gathered. While Atropos doesn’t bother much with adding much elegance

to her mid-air time, aside from the grace that naturally comes with the female frame and the sheer beauty and smoothness of Warframe movement, Limbo makes sure to give it all the magnificence and splendor he can put into his spins, almost as if the air was just another floor for him to walk through. Showoff much, that much is certain, but after all, no one can blame him, when thus far most of the operation has just been walking through boring plains and hills of snow, and grasping for the smallest bit of entertainment doesn’t seem like such a bad idea even when right now isn’t the best of times to pirouette hundreds of feet above the ground.

At least it pays off, as he lands at the other side just as cleanly, even if Valkyr and Atropos are both shaking their heads, even if it’s for their own different reasons.

“So,” He speaks like nothing weird ever took place “shall we keep making our way through this cliff?”

Atropos’ shrug is positive enough of a response for him to walk through the side of the cliff with her right behind. Valkyr and Wisp do the same at the other side of the gap between them, steadily stalking the pace of the Corpus formation watching the area. The snow turns thinner, the air less ruthless, and their patience somehow returns to a more manageable condition, enough for Limbo to try the unthinkable: Speak with Atropos.

“I just hope it doesn’t take us long to find them on a dead end, this is really dragging out for too long.”

“Why does it feel like everything about this day has been specifically made to attempt to kill me out of boredom?” She asks monotonically enough to be abrasive, but shockingly to her, it doesn’t affect him in the slightest. As a matter of fact, he’s more receptive of this comment than anything, which leaves her slightly puzzled, even if she doesn’t express it.

“Things have just started off slow, give them a little bit of time to catch up some momentum and we’ll get there.”

“That isn’t it, and you know it. Your partners, they’re unbearable, I’m not going to beat around the bush because they don’t deserve it, but that Valkyr girl can’t stop being a thorn up our asses, I only came with you because at least you won’t tie my hands up and tell me I can’t use my bloody weapon for anything.”

“Give her some time, she just has a few insecurities up her head that even she isn’t aware of. She’s trying her best to be a good leader in a mission with such stakes like this, even if it has backfired a little bit so far, but I’m sure we’ll be fine when she gets the hang of it.”

“So I assume that means I’m forced to put up with her lovely antics until she can pull the stick out of her ass, and Fate knows just how long that may take, if it even happens at all.”

“Having faith does wonders for many things, and if you can have so much faith in Fate…”

“It’s part of my job and my beliefs, I can’t just not believe in Fate, it makes zero sense.”

“Right, I know that, but what I mean is that you could easily be able to do something similar for Valkyr, just this once. It’s clearer than a mirror that you don’t like each other, I’m not going to make you hang out with each other or have tea parties and talk about the weather.”

“That’s admittedly quite a stupid idea, who even does that anymore?”

“That’s exactly what I mean, I wasn’t trying to be literal, perhaps you should stop for a moment from time to time to actually consider what other meaning the things you get told could have, it’s not always about direct offense.”

Even if that’s the case, Atropos can’t help but make an abrupt halt in her marching to stare at him, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Is something the matter now, Atropos?” He gently asks her.

“Nothing, just a thought, it will leave my mind sooner or later.” She dismisses any and all preoccupation he might hold for her, as little as it may be “So, what’s her problem? Such lackluster leadership will lead us to nothing but failure, she cannot just treat us like her pawns.”

“Have you ever wondered if all she wants is to make someone proud?”

“Most people do something so monumental to gain a superior’s approval, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Yet what if it gets to the point of being a dependent obsession?”

“I’m oblivious as to what you’re trying to imply here…” Atropos tilts her head with intrigue, enough of an incentive for Limbo to inquire.

“You’ll see it as time passes, just be aware of who she talks with and what she says, that will give you all the clues you need.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me yourself?”

“We’re currently in the middle of a mission, right now isn’t the best time to discuss this. Besides, I’d rather preserve my skin intact, she definitely wouldn’t be happy about me spreading this information so freely to anyone that asks.”

At the very least Atropos can bring herself to nod with a new sense of understanding, not that it decreased her apathy by any measurement, but if she can have a basic level of comprehension about third-party situations at least for once, that’s more than sufficient for the time being. The rest of their way forward shocks him with an uncomfortable air of silence, which he’s internally begging to death for an opportunity to break, which comes when his companion’s interest shows how much it still has to explore:

“You two don’t seem to get along very well, given how often you tend to argue and disagree with one another.”

“Is that the impression you are getting?” He asks perplexed, to which she nods right away “I may apologize, then. We don’t hate each other in the slightest, we just tend to clash given how much we have to discuss.”

“I’m not surprised at how much and how frequently she bothers everyone else around her, I still don’t get how such a nuisance of a person managed to get this position of power.”

“Now, now, let’s not begin with the misdemeanor, I don’t see how she earned such a treatment from you or anyone else, not even me.”

“She shall reap what she sows, I’m only paying her in kind for how well she’s behaved with me.” She answers deadpan without skipping a beat, showing just how strongly she feels about this subject matter without showing it through her voice tone. Limbo’s initially taken aback, unsure of how he can broaden her horizons without coming across as too harsh or pretentious, or well, anything she would find worth not responding to, which as far as he knows, covers too much for him to have an easy time advising her. Still, it’s worth giving it a try, it can be a good way to pass the time as they keep making their way forward until those damn Corpus soldiers meet the end of the road.

“She’s not exactly the happiest of the bunch, that much is true, but if you ask me, you mirror each other more often than you’d think when it comes to your standard behavior around others.”

Obviously, it was a given that Atropos would be offended as soon as she would hear these words, although it’s not the kind of shock he expected, it shows more disappointment than anything else.

“How disgusting…” She mutters to herself, still loud enough for him to barely catch it. It could be said that there’s a small positive in her lack of outright denial, in this case compared to many other past encounters. Absent-minded, Limbo doesn’t notice himself chuckling at the display, although Atropos definitely does, but somehow, she’s not upset this time around, more exhausted than anything and choosing to continue up ahead instead of engaging any further with a conversation as fruitless as they can get.

However, something comes to her mind, and having nothing to lose except for dignity that’s already being put to the test, she decides her best course of action while the snow touches her helmet is to get it out of the way now that this silence presents the perfect opportunity to do so:

“Why are you doing this?”

This question in particular leaves Limbo perplexed and confused alike, at first unsure of what she’s referring to.

“Doing what specifically?” He cautiously asks, looking back in her direction.

“Engaging in anything involving me. I respect it, you’re showing a lot more sense than any of your peers combined, but you know all of them despise me, what do you gain from interacting with me aside from everyone else’s suspicion?”

“It fulfills my curiosity. You’re a newcomer that deserves a warmer greeting than the cold scolding you got from basically everyone, and in all honesty, you hold far more details than you’re given credit for, and if they’re not going to listen to you, I will, even if it is to keep it to myself.”

Atropos chuckles at this answer, another link in her chain of surprising responses he never expected from her.

“So you get off to this shit…” She stays quiet for a few short seconds “How fitting, aren’t you even ashamed of yourself?”

“How were you even able to jump to such a conclusion?” Limbo sounds more impressed than anything, wondering how anyone’s even capable of that degree of mental gymnastics.

“You said it yourself. You’re only engaging in this conversation for your own pleasure, no other reason or motive beyond that.”

“I never explicitly said that, nor I even tried to imply it in the slightest.”

Disbelief in her being acts as the perfect wall to stop her annoyance from washing off, as she keeps staring at him blankly whilst walking forward at the same time. Valkyr observes from the other side, baffled as to how they’re able to stand each other, oblivious as to what they may be conversing about due to her inability to hear them from that distance, and perplexed as to when the Corpus cohort they’ve been following for what feels like minutes will finally reach the oh so needed dead end they require to execute their scheme. That very moment is perfect for Oberon to cross her mind again, such boredom couldn’t be equalled by whatever he might be doing up north. Why would raiding a factory be as excruciating as her current task underway?

And unfortunately, she couldn’t be any more correct. As stressful as it may be, running down hallways while sirens sound off overhead and enemies turn their heads to see you moving at tens of miles per hour is always a wonderful source of thrill to travel through your veins, and the sabotaging frames are no different. Their way to the production lines are obviously halted and obstructed by Corpus workers that aren’t just going to let them lay waste to their workplace, holding small pistols and aided by nearby drones and walkers that always tread around in search for looming peril, but other than the constant bother that they represent, they don’t pose much of a threat aside from acting as a minor nuisance that only delays the inevitable. If anything, having to deal with Excalibur seemingly acting to his own accord has been the most difficult aspect of the whole ordeal. It’s not like he’s been useless to the operation, they just wish he didn’t act like such a lone wolf, he operates completely separate from the group in a way that could easily put the whole operation at risk instead of working with the team. Still, a contribution is a contribution at the end of the day, and if it helps them out, it’s always appreciated.

As expected, the production lines are filled to the brim with angry workers when they reach the place. They’re armed with anything they've been able to gather, from wrenches and combat knives, to crowbars and electric batons. A few of them even have pistols and the occasional rifle amidst the crowd, now fired up and running all over the place to spots they can hide behind and take cover, whilst the frames haven’t even seized their chance to draw their own arsenal, in awe of the panicking sight to behold. How amusing to see those with more fragile lives willing to find and do anything to survive, a foolish act compared to running away, although maybe desertion wouldn’t give them that much better of an ultimate fate out in this brutal weather, and if they even survived, how would they face their superiors and make it out unscathed?

Alas, duty calls, and in such dire a predicament and running at a clock to blow up the entire place, the frames have no choice but to spill more blood from those that have chosen to stand in their way. They get in tight formation, covering each other, aiming at all angles and directions they might be threatened, there’s no weak link or fault in their cohesion, hesitation isn’t an option now.

However, to interrupt their calm, a shot like thunder parts the air and blasts through the room, landing on an unfortunate fool’s head and splitting into fragments just as lethal as the original bullet, hitting many around the first fallen to increase the damage and chaos of the ever-growing multitude in arms. When the frames turn back their heads, they see a line of smoke, right from where Betelgeuse’s Vectis once aimed its barrel, and its owner shaking like crazy, trembling upon the realization of what he’s just done. Oberon’s judging gaze stays fixed for long enough to make him squirm and jump back into action, right as the mob advances to swarm them and exploit their numbers advantage before they’re slaughtered by their inaction. Hope they’re ready for a bloody scuffle, if they want to make it out in time.

“How much longer is this going to take, why can’t we just gun them down already?” Atropos’ frustration nears its limit after long minutes of trekking a cliff without doing anything to their prey. Indeed, while Oberon and his team have been able to indulge in perpetual exhilaration, a different kind of tension invades Valkyr and her own followers, now that the snowy hail grows stronger and their vision isn’t as easy to trust anymore, white curtaining their peripheral view.

“Patience, Atropos.” Limbo breaks her irritation with reassuring words “Our moments won’t always come when we want them to, waiting is a necessary sacrifice more often than you’d imagine.”

“If you’re trying to be such a saint, why don’t you tell the same to your lovely partner on the other side?” She responds with her own question, pointing at a Valkyr that isn’t any more optimistic than she is. What an exemplary leader to their team, and Limbo knows about the bad image this could cause, so it’s time for him to bring sense back to her.

“Valkyr, by the Lotus, what is the issue this time-”

Instead of solving anything, however, this only seems to enrage her even more, as she violently switches her gaze to him, fists closed and lungs ready to be yelled out of breath:

“Don’t you say her name in vain, asshole! Do you think she would be so happy to see how we’re just disappointing her right now?! Tell me, have we done anything worth mentioning her for?!”

“Well, if you ask me, I think she would be more composed than this.”

“We’re embarrassing her!” She doubles down on her argument “We were supposed to wreak havoc and cause terror amongst the ranks of Corpus and Grineer alike, and we’ve done the literal opposite of that so far, and you’re trying to tell me she wouldn’t be ashamed of this pitiful sight we’re giving her!”

“It’s the Lotus, Valkyr, she would never feel such way toward us, you should know that better than anybody else here at this point.”

Although it seems to be just about enough to appease her for the time being, it’s not like Valkyr feels any different about their current circumstances, but whatever works for both of them.

“You don’t seem to mind letting down your beloved Lotus as much as she does.” Atropos points out, this time with genuine curiosity.

“And you’re right, I technically don’t, because I’m certain that we aren’t letting her down at this very moment.” Limbo’s confidence doesn’t even need to resonate with anybody in the group to feel empowering.

“Why does she refuse to accept your enlightenment, if you’re so sure about it?” She asks with stinging sarcasm.

“Exactly because of what we just talked about, Atropos. You see, I’m loyal to the Lotus, all of us here are to one degree or another.”

“Except for me.” She’s quick to clarify without skipping a beat.

“Of course, that is an immediate indicator that our levels of devotion towards her vary amongst our ranks, despite how you may think otherwise.”

“And here I thought all of you were a mindless cult, admittedly you didn’t do much to help against that assumption, so you cannot call it dumbfounded either.”

“I mean, I definitely can, but it wouldn’t be ideal, now would I?”

Another silent shrug from Atropos already serves as an unexpected, but welcome way to brighten up the mood, even if the sentiment isn’t outright expressed.

“But yeah, that obviously means the more devoted someone is, the more they'll find themselves in the obligation of doing their best, and that usually means going far out of their way to earn their superior’s approval.”

Nodding, Atropos seems to be able to get the message, despite how contrived its delivery needed to be, a small but significant aspect that irks her deeply.

“I still don’t comprehend why you can’t be more direct about your message.” She complains to conclude.

“Well, I do know the reason, and it has claws, and a temper, and happens to be the most violent component of our formation.” Limbo is cautious not to speak too loudly and risk Valkyr hearing him, but still audibly enough for Atropos to catch it without catching her gaze and making the gossip all that more obvious. As long as Atropos acquires a new sense of understanding to break her out of her condescending ways, it’s always going to be miles upon miles of progress for him.

“You two over there, look ahead!” Valkyr’s order cuts the celebrations short, pointing forward to a sight they were eagerly expecting, instantly raising their spirits upon the view of a completely shut passage up ahead and a disconcerted Corpus division below their feet. This might be one those very few days you can actually find an avalanche to come in handy, and watching some of the soldiers trying to scale the pile of snow just to fall back to the ground in no time is quite the amusing sight. Perhaps it will be even more grandiose of a spectacle when they try to escape desperately by any means necessary.

It’s time to pay them a visit. Jumping off the cliff with all the elegance of a diving swan, Valkyr starts making her slow descent, while the rest stay on top with their guns ready for lethal mischief. The rage of the powerful snowstorm covers her and keeps her hidden from enemy view, while Corpus men constantly have to pull their feet out of the forming layers of falling blizzard that defies to bury them alive if they don’t watch out. Soon enough, they will have nowhere to run on either side, behind their backs and underground, the only way out they will have is forward, one that she’s going to make sure comes with enough death to satisfy her and her team.

But stories aren’t made to be simple, and the songs she’ll sing to her peers with her shawzin have to be made all the more spectacular, reason why Deinos of all creatures is spotted by her amidst the mass of corporate warfare. Utter joy is replaced by evergrowing panic, which seizes more of her mind the further downward she makes it, and she’s dangerously close to fumbling her landing, her gaze now fixated on the makeshift frame she hadn’t met in quite the long time, and how she’s going to make sure the incoming slaughter doesn’t include her, that is until the enemy finds her far sooner than she anticipated. It’s time for her to run.

And it’s also time for Oberon to run. Not quite fleeing a freshly made crime scene, that much can be proven true, but the massacre he and his team left behind still amounts to something stomach-churning, which won’t last for long before it gets blown to smithereens. So much for a consolation prize.

Not everyone in the team takes it the same, however. Behind stands and follows Betelgeuse, head lowered and weapon on his back, retreating with his companions without sharing their eagerness and enthusiasm, or even their speed. They don’t look back to him, why would they? They’re too focused on setting up the final charge and finding their map, and he doesn’t matter enough to be worth their gazes. He almost ruined their previous advance, he couldn’t even try to remain still and not mess things up, he had to shoot, fire and splatter a worker’s brains all over the wall, and the shot had to shatter and cause that much more chaos. What a busy mind he has, to think of himself so highly.

Nevertheless, regardless of what he has in mind, the bomb is in his hand, the detonation device is in the other, and the decision to set off the explosion is ultimately his, not anyone else’s, he’s just as important of a member of this strike team as everyone else in it, and even if he doesn’t accept that, he has no choice to bail out of this either.

Completely oblivious to the hasty conversation taking place before him, he remains distracted by the rusted cogs constantly turning inside his head, covering his regular thought process with constant taint and unease that refuses to let go, not that he even considers attempting it anyways.

“And will we go directly to the first dockyard once we find the coordinates?” Ivara asks in one of the many questions he ignores, but not to him, they never spoke to or about him. Of course she’s speaking to Oberon, he’s the leader of the group, why would she say something so crucial to someone as uneventful as a frame covered in dusk?

“We ought to, but we have to be careful about it.” Oberon offers a response mid-jog “They know now that we are in their territory, they will search for us everywhere, in any nook and cranny, and won’t hesitate to eliminate us once they spot us, we have no choice but to act quickly and discreetly from here onwards.”

“How much longer can we stay here?” She asks again.

“I’d say not much longer than a few minutes. This place will soon be overrun by guards and an investigation team, they will use anything they can get to track us down.”

“Better we hurry, if that’s going to be the case.” Excalibur emphasizes.

“About time that you finally said something, man.” Oberon lets his concern be conveyed strongly through his words “You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time, Lotus knows doing what, is there anything wrong that you haven’t told us about?”

“Me? No, there is no issue at all.” Excalibur tries his best to sound as convincing as possible, something that isn’t his field of expertise in the slightest “I’ve just been trying to find other ways to contribute to the mission, since its length means we’ll need all the supplies we can seize, right?”

“That does make sense, yes, but why didn’t you tell us beforehand?”

“Call it the rush of the moment, the adrenaline of the situation impeded me from informing you, and then it just slipped off my mind completely. My apologies.”

Suspicion is something Oberon can’t find himself shaking off when the circumstances surrounding this statement don’t seem to add up, yet alas, now isn’t the best of opportunities to put Excalibur into intense interrogation, when more urgent matters at hand are reminded to them by the increasing volume of the gunfire behind them. They surely aren’t welcome here or anywhere else in this region, let’s better make it count.

The command room isn’t quite what they were expecting. Instead of massive screens, monitors, electronic keyboards, machinery moving and flying about, the bare minimum and regular equipment for installations of this size, they find themselves in a hall littered with boxes, crates, caches of all kinds of minerals, reducing the brightness the lights on the ceiling can deliver, and nearly obscuring the sight of a single monitor that makes up an entire wall. The screen houses dozens upon dozens of open windows, all containing varying information about shipments, deliveries, supply amounts, inventories, and even an entire layout of the facility and its different floors.

But most importantly, destinations. A map of the entire region lies before their curious, attentive eyes, marking the locations of everything Corpus has established for themselves. Checkpoints, roads and highways, palisades, barracks, garrisons, trade outposts, even the raging frontlines themselves, all of them are marked, signaled and outlined down to the smallest detail, with no obvious exception to be seen anywhere. And of course, this includes the largest dots in the map. If it wasn’t obvious enough already, their displayed importance gives them away as the locations for each of the dockyards, the awaiting victims of their visit to decide the fate of the entire planet and the war itself.

But first, better take this information with themselves. In days like these, hacking is an ability more valuable than ever before, and doing it as quickly as feasibly possible would make it the most important war asset in any scenario. Luckily, that mastery with jailbreaking is a must among Warframes, some more prolific at it than others, and it takes little to no time for Ivara to take this role in the group and execute it flawlessly. Her performance would be worth an applause, weren’t it amidst such a tight schedule, so the cheers will have to wait for later, it’s time to bring down chunks and bits of metal and set up barricades on the entrances to the room, the furious horde of enemies echoes its roar for vengeance through the hallways, and they’re nearby.

Hurryingly bringing to the ground all they can use to cover the clear invitation to attack, they set up barriers of metal and furniture that makes for a sufficient blockade to get to work. The download of the map itself shouldn’t take them longer than a few seconds, but in times like these, each and every second they can buy is precious, as long as Corpus can’t get in with their guns and their countless, foundationless threats to their lives.

“Alright, I’m taking this with us.” Ivara speaks out as she enters the database and opens a menu with dozens upon dozens of lines of code flashing and covering her personal interface “You might want to provide me with some cover fire, if you don’t mind.”

“Even if we minded, we can’t really say no either, can we now?” Oberon seizes the tight chance to tease her, which works flawlessly, making her sigh and shake her head before averting her gaze back to her new objective. Nevertheless, he gets a quick hold of his staff, giving it another eager spin overhead, while both following frames behind him heft their own guns, looking now at the entrance where all the ramming noises are coming from. Soon, the barricade will be brought down, leaving nothing but destiny itself between both forces, and they will be ready.

In the meantime, Valkyr’s plan keeps crumbling even further, now doding fire mid-air that is reciprocated by her comrades at the top of both cliff sides. At the very least they have nowhere to run this time. However, amidst the chaos, Deinos could be caught in the crossfire, something the valkyrie frame cannot afford risking.

“Limbo, Wisp, Atropos!” She shouts as she still glides downward, in the middle of the process of opening a call with her team “Do you see Deinos in their formation? Don’t shoot her, don’t attack her, don’t do anything to her!”

“What will we do with her, then?” Atropos asks, disconcerted “We can’t just let her get away, she would give away our location if she escapes.”

“We’ll come up with something later, just don’t harm her, and don’t let her retreat either!”

The frames above Valkyr give each other confused glances before shrugging mutually and switching their targeting to the lesser threats surrounding Deinos, who watches from afar with trademark apathy, immediately replaced by overwhelming perplexity when Valkyr crosses her vision. Almost hypnotized, she stays there petrified, making for the perfect target, such a tempting opportunity to relieve her from her life, if only they didn’t have a pesky promise to keep. The rest of Corpus better make for cannon fodder just as satisfying to slay, in that case, sorting through them almost feels like cutting through butter, but it lacks the weight of a proper fight.

At this very moment, they must be panicking through their dozens of communication lines, warning all the channels they can contact about the enemy they’re facing right before being the next ones to perish. Even if they know now where the ambush is taking place, there’s no way reinforcements will be able to arrive in time, nor track them down effectively, thanks to the unrelenting weather and the raw talent of the frames in the art of stealth. Even with a setback quite like having to face Corpus’ very own Warframe without being able to get rid of her, things couldn’t have gone any better than they did this time, better make it count.

As for Oberon? Well, his position is arguably slightly more advantageous but not any less cumbersome. Gunfire bathes the scene, as boxes and cages of minerals are shoved around while both sides of the confrontation make a hasty effort to gain the upper hand. The duel grows more furious when ranged weaponry isn-t enough to keep them separated, now resorting to pure melee with anything they got at hand. In turn, things don’t take long to turn pretty messy, such a tight and limited amount of space isn’t the best to house dozens of Corpus charging in and trying to land a few hits on the frames, yet in the contrary, this is a blessing in disguise for Oberon and Excalibur. All they have to do is keep their melee weapons in constant motion until the enemy tires themselves out and leaves them open room to slay them with absolute ease and freedom, and such a narrow space for the Corpus defenders to push through makes this task remarkably easy. It’s only a matter of time now, as Oberon starts breaking skulls with powerful swings of his staff, and Excalibur follows his example with his very own decapitations. It isn’t enough to bathe the spot with absolute red, but as long as it reduces the amount of foes they have to handle, it works.

And even subconsciously, Valkyr follows a similar example. Her claws are drenched in Corpus blood almost right after she makes her landing, while she receives heavy fire support from above. The overwhelming number of enemies, however, doesn’t seem as terrified as they would usually be in a situation like this, determined to fight to the death if they are trapped and have nowhere to run, making for a slightly fiercer challenge to overcome. To Valkyr, this doesn’t matter, it excites her more than anything to face extra resistance and spice things up, that is until she comes face to face with Deinos herself. The bout seems to come to a halt for her, although there’s still battle raging on around her, but none of the foes even come close to her, thanks to the ridiculous amount of suppressing fire she receives as aid from her followers above. As such, she takes the opportunity to just exchange cold glares with the makeshift frame in front of her, who seems to be caught in a trance she cannot escape as long as Valkyr remains at the very center of her line of sight. It doesn’t matter that the Corpus soldiers that are likely under her command are quickly being slaughtered, it doesn’t matter that many are running for their lives and begging for her leadership, all that absorbs her attention in the most trivial and puzzling of fashions is a valkyrie donned in Helminth, standing before her whilst doing absolutely nothing.

“Valkyrie…” She says in a very low voice, which Valkyr barely even catches. She’s definitely enraptured down to the most minute detail, yet a gunshot that buzzes extremely close to her head brings both of them back to the present, to observe how Deinos’ lack of leadership has dwindled her soldiers down to a unrecoverable state, already turned into a desperate mass of Corpus in disarray, seeking for guidance that isn’t there to get them out and save them from assured death.

And they’re not the only ones. As Ivara already finishes her download, Corpus hostiles keep falling like flies upon the deadly ministrations of Oberon and Excalibur, who lack any compassion for those that dare disturb their mission. An act of defensive bravery from the corporate garrison quickly turns into a prime example of tragic foolishness, when their once menacing and almighty numbers fall to almost nothing, easier for the frames to pick off one by one nearly between yawns of boredom. However, at this point their locations must already be common knowledge amongst not just the present garrison, but a far larger part of Corpus as a whole, which is just going to be wonderful to deal with when it’s to go back to hiding once again until they can find the perfect moment to strike their next objective. Alas, one thing at a time, trying to think of so many issues at once will only end up turned into a cluttered mess, but it’s not like they’re handling all that much anyways.

“You guys having fun over there?” Ivara asks jokingly, holding up her arm as a signal to indicate her task is finished “I got us what we need, so I don’t think it’s any longer necessary to spill more Corpus blood right here.”

“I’m surprised you’re even concerned for their lives.” Excalibur comments with a deadpan, almost apathetic tone that’s rather uncharacteristic of him.

“I’m not dismissing the fact that they’re our foes, but there will always be innocent blood mixed up with them.” She’s quick and swift to point out while maintaining a soft attitude “Of course, I’m not playing a morality card here, I’d just prefer not to slay more than necessary.”

“In that case, let’s retrieve ourselves and make our way out before this party gets any messier.” Oberon suggests, looking around curiously in search of someone “Wait, where’s the kid?”

“Betelgeuse?” Excalibur asks “I thought you were keeping an eye on him, he’s been awfully quiet this whole mission. Did he even participate in the brawl just now?”

“I didn’t see him amongst the multitude, or even by our side. Where could he have possibly gone, and why would he leave without saying a word?”

The others’ mutual shrugs don’t do much to answer his question, despite being the only responses they could possibly offer him at this very moment. All they can do is search around while they open a call with the hope that he might pick up and actually explain himself.

“I’m right here.” The frames turn around to a dark corner in the room, to spot Betelgeuse sitting on top of some crates, legs crossed and looking down at them. Their confusion can almost be felt in the air, looking at each other before turning their gazes back to him.

“Why didn’t you speak up when we asked where you were?” Oberon steps forward and asks him.

“I don’t know, does it matter now that you found me?” Betelgeuse responds along with a shrug of his own, staying stoic on top of the boxes whilst showing no real intentions to leave.

“And why didn’t you help us with defending the position?” Excalibur is the next one to bring a question forward.

“What could I have contributed?” Betelgeuse’s response comes with the absolute opposite of a cheerful tone “I’ve been nothing but utterly useless this whole time, I serve just as much staying here and watching you do all the work I can’t do without messing up.”

How perplexing. Regardless of what might have driven him to such a conclusion, it shan’t get in the way of completing the mission, not when they’re this close to leaving.

“Can you at least hand me the last bomb, please?” Oberon requests, extending his open hand towards him, which is met by the last device they have to set up before getting the hell out of what will soon be a smoking mess. This is immediately followed by Oberon’s nod of gratitude, which is received by neither reciprocation nor contempt, just ever-encompassing expressive neutrality as Betelgeuse finally hops off his little crate tower and follows them out with his head lowered. At the very least their way to start things off was mostly seamless.

Unfortunately, and quite expectedly, Valkyr doesn’t have the same luck. Sure, she managed to get Deinos out of the chaotic mess completely intact, but the panic and improvisation she had to sort through sure left her quite disappointed with the whole turnout of events that deeply irks her newfound perfectionism. Not even the sight of her unharmed allies making their slow, calm descent now that they’ve accomplished their very first task in this expedition, fills her with any sense of joy, not when she’s too occupied trying to think of a way to contain her new “prisoner”, if she’s even able to keep her around without her escaping.

“Valkyr!” Limbo shouts still from mid-air “What do you plan to do with her?”

That’s quite a good question, far more hard-hitting than it’s supposed to be, and it leaves Valkyr in utter awe just in case her inner self-debate wasn’t overwhelming enough. It doesn’t go away even when her allies make their landing right in front of her just a few short seconds later, looking around to admire the fruit of their patience and hard work, before they turn their gazes to their brand new predicament. At least she hasn’t attacked them, yet, or tried to run away, yet, or tried to contact anyone to rescue her… Yet. Yeah, hindsight’s twenty-twenty, it might not be the best of ideas to keep this  _ thing _ around, yet Valkyr seems determined to not let her go for whatever reason.

“What do you even plan to do with this?” Atropos is the next to question this outlandish idea “What does she contribute apart from being a constant burden we’ll have to keep around not to be discovered?”

“Do you even remember that the Lotus explicitly ordered to keep her alive?” Valkyr is quick to complain with all the annoyance she’s manages to muster up to this very point “Even if you wanted to kill her, that’s not an option, the only way we can make it out of here without everything turning into even more of a mess is if she sticks with us until we’re safe.”

“And how long will it take until we’re ‘safe’, under whatever definition or set of terms you may give it? What is it that you pretend to make out of her in the meantime?”   
  


“Look, just give me some time, okay? We’re barely getting started with this expedition, and you’re already expecting me to rush ideas around and come up with plans pulled out of my ass!”

“It’s supposed to be your job, otherwise why did your beloved Lotus put you in this position of power instead of someone else-”

Just as Atropos is about to finish her sentence, Valkyr gets a tight, menacing grip on the collar of her vest, pulling her alarmingly close to her while the other two frames stand around and watch, staying cautious and ready to separate them if the situation escalates.

“Tch, how rich of you…” Atropos dismisses the threat like it’s nothing, slowly raising a hand to pull one of Valkyr’s wrists away, which is denied even more aggressively when the hold gets even tighter.

“How rich of me?!” Valkyr instantly explodes, holding nothing back against the insolent frame right in front of her “Listen to yourself, you self-serving prick! You’re apparently better than everyone else, you never do anything wrong, it’s alright for you to judge everything and everyone like you’re a superior being, and now you say that it’s so rich of me to treat your behavior towards our Lotus like this! Come on, bad mouth her again, I dare you!”

Her tone seems to be getting progressively more and more violent, yet for whatever reason, Limbo and Wisp don’t jump into the confrontation to separate them both, although it’s worth taking into account that Limbo shows particular concern about the situation.

“Do you seriously think I have any damn idea of why she put me in the leadership?! I’m just as clueless as you, but I have no say in the matter, and even if I had one, I wouldn’t even tempt the option and taint my relationship with her! Do you have any idea of how much is at stake here? I bet you don’t, the only thing you care about is yourself and what’s convenient to you, so why would it matter to you, why would it matter to you that I fail and I have to witness the Lotus’ disappointment upon looking at me with disgust when it would matter just as much that you spat on her face?!”

Limbo no longer seems comfortable with such a confrontation in this of all moments “Valkyr, I think that’s enough for now, we can keep discussing this later-”

However, as soon as he tries to get an easy, gentle hold of her wrist, she violently turns her furious gaze towards him, forcing him a few steps back, yet it’s just about enough for Atropos to bat her hands off her vest and place some distance between them, even threatening to draw her Ascalon rifle may she deem it necessary.

“I wasn’t aware we were being led by a maniac…” Atropos coldly remarks, heavily affected by the grand string of words she had to endure, a feat in itself as she wouldn’t bat an eye to such accusations, and somehow this is the exception to the rule “Forget this already, what are you going to do with your friend over there if she doesn’t run away at the very moment we avert our eyes?”

“She will not run away, I can assure you that much.” Valkyr refutes just as quickly, turning around and ushering Deinos to come close, which she obeys without any hesitation, much to the others’ shock and disbelief “See? at least this detail isn’t kicking me in the ass, compared to everything else I’ve had to put up with today.”

“At the very least you could disarm her.” Limbo advises tentatively from a distance, still unwilling to come forward and speak upfront. He sighs with heavy relief when she actually takes her suggestion and extends an open hand forward.

“Hand me all of your weapons, please.” She calmly requests, followed by a few tense seconds of uneasy silence, as the others stand around in quiet expectation, hands cautiously close to their guns in case something goes very wrong. Yet, somehow to continue their amazement, Deinos complies, softly bringing her hands behind her back and pulling them forward once again, a shotgun and loads of ammunition now in them that Valkyr doesn’t hesitate to seize. That’s another menace out of the way now, of course, as long as they ignore the razor-sharp claws that they can’t really take from her.

“Shut her line of communications.” Valkyr orders, grasping an eerily gentle hold of Deinos’ wrists as Limbo steps forward and tinkers with the sides of her helmet. This time around, the makeshift frame appears to be far more bothered about the treatment she’s currently receiving, yet still refuses to take any real action in opposition to it, even when the signal is eventually replaced by white noise and subsequently shut down. She’s completely at her captors’ mercy now, which is surprisingly high, as after all, orders are orders, and the Lotus isn’t someone you just disobey.

“Follow us.” Valkyr issues her final order to her for the day, and just like all the other previous times, she blindly obeys. The slow, ptiant walk they take out of the ravine doesn’t show them any more obstacles or great inconveniences to hold them in place any longer, a welcome break they gladly take after such a hasty pace starter for what’s ahead of them.

And as usual, they’re not the only ones. Oberon and company finally exit the weapons factory, having gathered all they needed, and make their way up a nearby hill to get a good view of the upcoming explosion. When they reach the top, they sit together, crossed legs and eyes turned towards the assaulted facility, before bringing their gazes towards Betelgeuse’s hand, which holds the small detonation device that will start the show.

“Alright,” Oberon speaks up, stretching his arms before crossing them “I think it’s safe to detonate them now, so go ahead.”

Betelgeuse gives him a numb, curious glance before turning back to the device in his hand, staring at it for a while before lifting his hand and aligning it with the sight of the factory downhill, and with a heavy sigh, he presses the button. The spectacle begins right away, blowing large sections of the facility up to smithereens, but it’s just the beginning, as any and all explosive materials that were stored inside take their turn to increase the size of the fireworks, dealing even more damage to the already unrecoverable structure. There’s no way anyone or anything inside could’ve survived, so it's a good thing that Ivara made sure to download that map of the region before they fled, so it’s right for them, well, at least three out of the four frames in the squad, to be in a bit of a celebratory mood, while Betelgeuse tosses away the now useless detonator and just looks down at the lights show, knowing things are just getting started for him and for everyone else in the group, regardless of how useless he may end up being.

“Sister,” He whispers to himself “how much longer are you going to take, please?”


	26. XXV: Verse Themself an Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Downtime leads to displeasure, and discomfort in uneasy revelations, as the frames face ugly truths, haunting in distinct parts and ends, yet carving a path for what's to come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's official, I'm extending the story by 6 more chapters. At this point, I feel like it's a necessary concession, since there's still plenty to be explored, and little space to do so, so I chose to give myself some leeway by adding some extra chapters to work with (and a couple more titles I'll have to come up with. Wonderful).}
> 
> I'll also be taking some time off, around a week or two, to plan out these new chapters and exactly what I'm going to do with them. I don't expect it to be anything difficult, just time-consuming, so don't worry.

Hell has never been the warmest of places to be. Well, it is supposed to be _the_ warmest place in all of existence, but definitely not in a welcoming sense, since well, it’s Hell, Inferno, Tartarus, Hades, whatever any belief or mythology may desire to call it. However, Betelgeuse doesn’t even need any specifications, what does it matter when his eyes are witnesses to the true definition of hell on earth?

He’s back in that city he saw not too long ago. Eurasia, it was called, if his fickle memory isn’t tricking him, but it would be near impossible to tell when it is in such a unrecognizable state, even from where he left it off as it was being brought to bits and ashes by waves of orbital strikes from the sky. This time around, it’s almost as if he’s trapped in a desolate set of badlands, towering hills and mountains of trash and debris everywhere he looks, wherever there isn’t plain gray of pure scorched earth to possibly intoxicate his lungs, and the fire is even greater, larger and more intense now that it’s nighttime and constant bombardment has ceased to let the flames finish up the destruction by burning anything that might have made it out alive or unscathed. His immediate horizon is nothing but piles of smoke and raging smite that consume anything it touches with zero regards or exceptions, bringing to mind the question for how long has it been since his last visit. After all, the massive capital ship that fell from the sky is still there, crashed and devastated, yet its basic frame and shape mostly intact from the impact, now forming a gigantic crack in the terrain for it to rest at the very nucleus of the megapoly, right where the central plaza would’ve used to be located.

As for him, he now sits at the top of a hill, the perfect spot to get a good view of everything underneath, but his curiosity doesn’t overtake his regret, that forces him to close his eyes tight shut and furiously sort through scarce memories to avoid having to stare at the horrors below. Nothing but the present, the days he’s spent together on the field with his sister Aldebaran, how they were rescued from Earth by the Lotus and brought to the Vesper relay, how he could barely control his panic when he had to meet a multitude of other Warframes that didn’t usher a welcoming word to him, and the few that did shut his brain as he knew not how to respond, everything that happened ever since.

But the smell of smoke and burning death brings him back to the painful reality that has been laid out in front of him, one that no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be able to escape by just ignoring it. It’s a horrible scenery, of course, having to once again watch what once must have been a bustling haven for life and commerce, now reduced to endless, useless rubble, but that isn’t his main worry. The damage, the flames, it all had a purpose, and he remembers the call he received the first time he saw all of this horror, reminding him of how this might be his fault. However, that’s not it.

The place, the city, the entire region, it must’ve been abandoned prior to the bombardment to avoid civilian losses, there’s no way they would’ve brought a populated area down to bits and pieces, right?... Then why could he hear the horrors of millions upon millions of innocent souls when each strike shattered the ground? All those screams, whimpers, cries for mercy, they could be heard in miles upon miles, and of course they reached his ears as well, they horrified him to no end, and regardless of how hard he attempted to forget, he couldn’t help but feel like he had spilled innocent blood. If he was truly in charge of bringing that whole place down to nothing, wouldn’t he have made sure back then that no one was there to get caught by the ruthless bombardment? What kind of monster could he have been, and why is it near impossible to remember all the details?

At this very moment, he leans forward, clutching his stomach with strength that could almost rip it apart, nauseated like never before. He could throw up violently if he has to hear just one more cry, one more echoing whimper that may send bone-shattering shivers down his aching spine, but no matter how hard he may try to cover his ears, they will linger, they will stay to terrify him despite all of his Warframe might, and they will remind him in the most disgusting of fashions that his humanity has never left him, he’s doomed to be weak and frail to an alarming degree for the rest of eternity, all because his command must’ve ended up taking millions upon millions of innocent lives.

And now it’s accompanied by small whispers, all of it forming an incessant orchestra with no other goal than to make it as clear to him as feasibly possible that his past acts were and are still unforgivable. Whoever’s voices it may be, they just won’t shut it about how it’s all his fault, so many people died because his bloodlust couldn’t hold back and had to bring the great city down to ashes before anybody could even have a chance to escape, otherwise why were there so many cries for help after the strikes fell from the sky?

The whispers, the grunts, the near-muffled moans and whimpers of pain, they keep themselves trapped inside his head, regardless of how violently he shakes it, refusing to face his current reality, as he quietly begs them to stop. He should be glad nobody else is there to witness such a pathetic sight, a Warframe brought down to his knees, embracing himself, hoping the voices inside his head may stop torturing him for once, as he looks down at the raging flames that slowly, but surely consume whatever comes into contact. They just won’t stop, they won’t stop, they won’t stop…

“They won't stop!” He shouts out at the tops of his lungs, earning the alarmed and worried glances of his squadmates to finally bring him back to present day. Noticing he’s not in those cursed ruins anymore, his whole being is overwhelmed by a hefty ton of shame that takes over anything else he could feel at that very excruciating instant of collective judgement, not like it’s undeserved, such a likely reaper of souls as he might have been is a worthy recipient of any and all trials that may be thrown his way, he’s smited the undeserving, punished the grateful and struck the defenseless, and there’s nothing he can do now that likely thousands of years have passed ever since he wrote his own sentence, he’s doomed to never find peace, as his actions will chase him until the time comes for him to perish.

“Is there something you’re not telling us, kid?” Oberon is the first in the group to voice his concern, reaching to try and place a hand on his shoulder, an effort that finds no recipient as soon as Betelgeuse steps out of the way with a lowered head and a quickened pace. This won’t matter in the short run, however, they’re bound to settle for the night atop a nearby hill to plan out their next big heist, he will have nowhere to flee and escape his tribulations this time.. At least he can hope they won’t bombard him with questions for the duration of their stay.

Valkyr plans to set up camp on top of an elevated position as well, looking down to the burnt, torn scenery laid out before her eyes, scarred by miles of trenches and artillery shells that have left holes and cracks on the now coarse, tainted terrain that could no longer be a haven for any life, but it isn’t like was any better before, due to the unbearably cold temperatures the planet’s always been known for.

This time they have a brand new companion in tow, and prisoner that doesn’t behave quite like one, following them around with a baffling high level of obedience that defies any preconceived assumptions that Valkyr or anyone else in her group may have had from someone as feral and unpredictable as their new captive, Deinos. It feels awfully eerie how she just sits quietly at the edge of the downhill descent, staring at the damage and ravaging her allies and foes have dealt to the terrain, while they stand behind and observe, expecting any sign of incoming betrayal. Either she’s a manipulative genius, or she really doesn’t mind or care about being at their mercy, but either way, now isn’t the time to figure out such a thing, better they get to arrange their next move now that they’re deep inside hostile territory.

But first things first, they sit down in a circle and try to make contact with the second squad at the other side of the planet, it would be awfully disrespectful not to do so when it’s important to keep constant check on the well-being of your comrades. Perhaps they might be just as surprised upon the sight of their new companion and how docile she actually is, but for now, the call just keeps ringing, waiting for someone to pick it up and answer, both sides sitting around in expectation until Oberon has decided it’s already time for this conversation to take place:

“Valkyr, how come you’re free from your first task so quickly already? At this point, I would’ve expected you to already have dozens of battalions chasing you around and leaving you nowhere to be.”

It isn’t even necessary for them to be looking at each other in order for her deadpan glare to be felt through “You are so hilarious, Oberon, be careful or you might have me rolling around in laughter.”

“Right, not in the best of moods, noted.” He accepts the attitude he’s probably going to put up with for the rest of the call “Well, did you at the very least have any luck?”

“Uh…” She looks behind herself, right at her brand new prisoner “You could say so.”

Having said this, she tilts her head out of the way to give him the clearest possible view of her very own predicament, which keeps him dead silent at first, and understandably so. Of all things she could've captured, she somehow managed to find Deinos, and most alarmingly, she’s doing absolutely nothing about it or against them, which is baffling to say the least.

“How did you…” He considers asking at first before ultimately dismissing it, there isn’t really too much mental gymnastics that have to be done in order to figure out the only way she could’ve found Deinos “You know what? Nevermind. I’d rather ask how you managed to get her so docile given the descriptions of your previous encounters with her.”

“I think it has something to do with me, as strange as it may sound.” She answers without really coming across as too certain about the likelihood of her statement “I’m still not one hundred percent sure if my theory is correct, but whenever I’m nearby or I issue orders ot her, she assumes this strange, dreamy behavior that you’re seeing right now, and oddly enough, she responds to most of, if not all my commands. Look closely.”

Changing the view of her camera around, Valkyr gives Oberon a far clearer sight of Deinos, quiet and docile as she currently is, mysterious in her lack of misbehavior. She sits on top of her legs, staring curiously with her head tilted at the valkyrie frame that’s staring at her right now, showing silent expectation that’s rare from a feral predator like her.

“Stand up, Deinos.” Valkyr firmly orders without meaning to sound too harsh or authoritarian, and true to her word, Deinos gets up without any hesitation, even showing the modesty to face her, possibly awaiting further instructions. Oberon is most certainly intrigued by this little display, although he isn’t completely convinced just yet.

“Yeah, you told her to get up to her feet, good job.” He acknowledges without any sign of praise “I don’t see how that proves anything, though, it’s a very basic order that shouldn’t involve her showing any signs of resistance.”

“I’m just getting started, Oberon, be patient.” She responds with mild irritation “Of all people, you should be the calmest about this, shouldn’t you?”

Upon finishing ehr complaint, she takes a couple steps back, giving Deinos more than enough room for whatever she might have to do next, and quite rightfully so, as she utters the words:

“Do a backflip.”

Normally, acrobatics aren’t something you just ask someone to do, it’s definitely an odd thing to request in most scenarios, yet despite this issue, and a few seconds of awkward silence, Deinos’ obedience still makes itself be known loud and clear, when she fixes her posture and without showing a single gram of doubt. jumps up and spins backwards mid-air, landing clean and neatly on her feet, just the way any Warframe would.

“Is that enough proof for you now?” Valkyr asks again, switching the view of the camera back to herself and getting a clear sight of a speechless Oberon, who just stays silent for a bit before nodding slowly and quietly as he tries to process what has just taken place.

“Right, so, uh…” He struggles to find the proper words to express his doubts “What do you even plan to do with her?”

“If I’m fully honest, I have no idea, I don’t even know who made her and why, so I’m completely lost as to what I could-”

“Father, he…” Deinos’ words shut everyone up at Valkyr's end of the call “Tasked with… Challenging you…”

“Challenging?” Limbo appears particularly confused about her choice of words “In what way did he want to challenge us that Corpus wasn’t already doing this whole time?”

Strangely enough, Deinos doesn’t respond to this question, or even looks at him. It’s almost as if she doesn’t bother to acknowledge his existence, and if that’s the case, it’s only going to make it that much harder to make any progress with her and find out about her background, if she even has anything significant to offer.

“Valkyr, could you help me out here?” He gently requests, raising her frustration just that one more bit that’s required to make her heave a sigh, shake her head and get closer to Deinos, poking her shoulder to regain her attention, a small action that’s already far more effective than whatever he’s tried to do so far.

“Deinos, could you please answer Limbo’s question?” She asks, but it still isn't enough to elicit a response, the makeshift frame’s silence is turning painfully uncomfortable at this point, so Valkyr better switch her approach or at least tweak it to make it more effective.

A bulb lights up on top of her head, when she takes into consideration how Deinos has been responsive and unresponsive alike depending on the squad member. It’s time for her to take the initiative again.

“Deinos,” Valkyr asserts her control by getting a firmer grip on Deinos’ shoulders, standing in front of her and acquiring as much of her likely field of vision as she possibly can “How did your creator want to challenge us?”

At first, it doesn't look like Valkyr’s words work either, such a damn shame when they could be missing out on crucial information. However, as soon as Deinos gets some space, she eases up a little and finally speaks up, earning everyone’s attention at once:

“Lotus.” Is the one single word that she first utters, yet it holds the impact of a supernova in everybody around her, but she isn’t done just yet “The Lotus, she gets in the way, so Father chose to defy her… By making his own Helminth child… That’s what he told me.”

“And who’s this ‘Father’ that you keep referring to?” Valkyr presses forward, now that she’s cracked through the barrier that is Deinos’ hesitation to communicate with anybody, and it still holds up strong, albeit with unintended side effects, as for probably the first time ever, Deinos is taken aback. Another eerily long moment of silence precedes a confession that makes their hearts drop in unison:

“Alad… Alad V… He is… Father…”

Everybody is thoroughly speechless, all staring at Deinos together in common shock for a solid fifteen seconds before any of them even consider saying anything to break the silence, struggling to even fathom what she just said is even remotely true.

“Well, there’s your truth now, Valkyr.” Oberon is the first one to snap out of his awful quietness, which turns out to be perhaps a smidgeon counter-productive upon Valkyr’s lack of a response “Valkyr?”

But before he can say much else, the call suddenly ends, leaving him and his group in the dark about what may be going on over there. One thing’s for certain, though, it’s definitely going to be a mess, one that he’s glad he isn’t there to partake in, and what a sight to behold that he’s missing out on indeed. At this very instant, Valkyr has turned into the embodiment of quiet rage, glaring past anything into an abyss that isn’t there, oblivious to the whole universe that abodes her, expressing no real emotion or attitude, completely numb to whatever may come next to her. Her teammates make sure to put some safe distance between her and themselves, except for, of course, Atropos, who is clueless about the whole ordeal or why she would need to stay away. Well, today definitely isn’t going to be her lucky day, if that’s the case.

“Valkyr?” Limbo cautiously tries to approach her and pull her out of her trance, an effort that bears no fruit at its first attempt “Valkyr, are you okay?”

“Am I supposed to be okay, Limbo?” She asks, barely containing her anger.

“Well, no, I just assumed you would-”

“Yeah, what the fuck do you think you know?! Tell me, come on, I want to see if you even know a smidge of what I’m going through right now!”

Furious, Valkyr turns around to face Limbo, who seems to have completely shut up and lost any will to keep arguing, which prompts her to continue without any opposition:

“It’s really funny to see you admit that you assumed, your sincerity for once surpasses your idiocy, and how convenient, thank the Lotus that it had to be now of all times! That motherfucker, that son of a bitch, he can’t just leave me alone, and now I find out this _thing_ comes after me as well, at this point it’s almost like even fate itself keeps dragging me towards him just to torture me a little more!”

“I don’t think Fate has anything to do with this.” Atropos is quick to comment without anyone asking, which earns her a cold glare from Valkyr that makes her huff and look away.

“I’ve spent so much time trying to forget about those old days, those horrible times of suffering that have left me like this, but he keeps chasing me, somehow I can’t manage to escape from him because he always comes back in some shape or form! Why, why does this keep happening to me, what have I done to deserve this?!”

The frames don’t do anything aside from watching in silence, taking the ultimate precaution not to disturb her while she’s still busy emptying herself from any and all pain she must’ve held up to that very point. Deinos, in particular, seems especially fascinated upon hearing all of Valkyr’s words or contempt, not even expressing any sort of fear or disdain towards her furious rant directed at her creator. Valkyr, upon realizing this, turns and prepares to retaliate will all the ill-intent she could muster from her wrath, but upon seeing the lack of a reaction, and just how clueless, how almost childishly innocent she appears even about all the things she’s just said, she can’t bring herself to even lay a finger on her, stepping away, taking a deep breath, and walking towards the edge of the descent downhill, giving herself another view of the battlefield down below once again. Thinking the worst has passed, the rest of the squad regroups, a new air of unease plaguing the ambience, trying to gather whatever discussion they had from where they left off as Valkyr makes a call.

“Greetings?” Oberon picks up, at first fearing the worst, but this quickly dissipates as soon as he sees she doesn’t snap at him right away “Valkyr, please tell me what happened.”

“I’m tired, Oberon, I’m literally exhausted. I just want to forget this whole day ever happened, but no, I can’t, and it’s not even over yet, how the hell do you manage to put up with this whole leadership stuff on a regular basis?”

“Maybe a poem would help, it certainly does the trick for me.”

“I don’t want you to sing me a poem, Oberon, I’m not a bloody child!”

“I didn’t mean that, I actually think _you_ should be the one to write a poem where you let out your frustrations and put your thoughts down in written words, not leaving them stored inside your mind where they can keep damaging your psyche.”

“Oberon, that’s probably the dumbest thing you’ve said in months, how is writing a stupid little poem going to help me clear any of this shit out?”

“You’re still free to give it a try. You asked me how I could deal with the stress of being a leader, this is how, and it’s up to you to see if it works for you or not.”

Valkyr groans to the sky in frustration, looking back at her squadmates for a moment and trying to even fathom how she’s even supposed to get all of them through such a mess they’ve gotten themselves into, just because they happened to come upon the wrong person at the wrong time, and now they can’t get rid of her without messing things up even further or breaking a valuable promise.

Well, if things are this bad, it might not be that awful of an iea to give Oberon’s suggestion a go, even if just this once, when she feels like she needs it the most, so she sits down while the rest of her team are busy doing whatever, and opens a blank page for a new document in her personal interface, immediately getting hit by writer’s block before even thinking of anything to put in the page. At this point, she would rather bury her head deep in the snow, and she would probably still get far more enjoyment out of it than anything else she’s had to deal with today, but she doesn’t want to make herself look like an idiot in front of her teammates, although it’s not like writing a poem is any less embarrassing.

“Uh, Valkyr.” Limbo speaks up.

“What do you want this time, for Lotus’ sake?” She expresses her annoyance towards his constant bother loud and clear, not really changing his demeanor or discouraging him from being a perpetual nuisance, however.

“Is it normal that your feral little friend over here is doing this?” He asks, finally attracting her attention for her to see a sight as amusing as it is unnerving. Deinos, now back in action, has Wisp held by the wrists, but she isn’t doing anything to her, she’s just inspecting her, like taking a cautionary measure to avoid any unexpected, sudden responses to what most people would consider to be an egregious invasion of personal space, and of course, shy as she is, Wisp doesn’t do much to combat this, aside from doing her best to try and squirm off her grasp, but there’s really only so much she would want to do without tempting a predator right in front of her, who doesn’t appear to have much of a sense of self-restraint, and Limbo pointing his pistols at them, although a little comforting, doesn’t do much to help matters in the slightest. The current standoff bring new tension to the scene,and if anything, the confrontation feels a little-

“What the hell am I thinking?” Valkyr rectifies herself, bringing her mind back to present time, and the current predicament going down right in front of her eyes “Limbo, could you separate them already?”

“I don’t want to lower my weapons and risk her doing anything sudden without me being prepared.” He confesses, tightening his grip on his guns despite Deinos not doing anything remotely suspicious, or well, more suspicious than she already is.

“Fine. Atropos?”

“Not my problem.” Atropos blatantly defies her, arms and legs crossed while watching the scene go down with quiet amusement. Looks like Valkyr’s on her own once again, as she groans even louder, walking forward and pulling Deinos off Wisp without putting too much force into it.

“Better?” She asks Wisp, now that there’s some actual tangible (well, not quite, it’s bloody thin air, after all) space between her and her oddly passive aggressor, but that isn’t her focus now. If anything, the pattern she’s witnessing has her more enraptured than her timid companion’s well-being, struggling to comprehend what to make out of the fact that her archenemy’s “Helminth Child” is so obedient to her, which doesn’t make sense to her at all, no matter how many cogs turn inside her head. It seems it will be one of those things she will squeeze out of her with time, enough dedication, and the will to annoy someone to death until they give you the answers you want. After all, that’s what her teammates, her friends, and pretty much every single atom in the observable universe, have been doing to her for a while now, it’s just right for her to try and get some payback.

But for now, she should try to put these experiences into her poem, if she can even bring herself to begin with anything, so that the situation’s been sorted, she goes back to her former spot with a clear view of everything underneath, sitting down and opening the document again when she think she isn’t being watched. They wouldn’t be interested in whatever she might be doing anyways, Limbo’s too focused on doing his own thing, Atropos is just an asshole, and Wisp is, well, Wisp, Valkyr doesn’t really expect her to just peek at her writing when she can barely look at her own shadow without shying away.

“Right, so where to begin…” Valkyr tells herself, allowing herself to drift away into the most boring aspects of her mind, involving artistry and creativity, aspects that she never expected herself to interact with. “Things could use a little dusting off over here.” She mutters, inspecting the mental space that she barely ever bothered to take into account. It’s no surprise that she didn’t really indulge in visual and written arts all that much, in the sense of making them herself, she’s already having the struggle of her life just thinking of a way to start things off that doesn’t come across as corny or pretentious.

In the meantime, Oberon has his eyes towards the horizon, his call with Valkyr already over, as he inspects what’s been laid upon his attentive sight. The silhouette is familiar, he’s been somewhere similar before, and the same’s the case with Betelgeuse and Ivara. Obviously, he’s the only one paying attention, Ivara is having a chat with Excalibur that seems to be quite personal, given the uneasiness in their body language, and Betelgeuse, by the looks of it, has fallen enraptured with his current call he’s holding with Banshee, the one frame he put in charge of giving him constant updates about his sister’s condition. However, it seems as though they’ve already moved way past that topic, since the mood between them two is nowhere near as somber as it would be expected from them talking about an incapacitated Aldebaran. If anything, it holds a slightly optimistic edge, a welcome change of pace after having to see the kid at his worst behavior in the first mission of many that he’ll be doing along with the rest of the group for the expedition, which after all, is just getting started. In truth, it’s just a matter of acceptance, they’ve finally come upon the first dockyard they’re going to tear down until no man or machine remains and no crop or bit of life grows on its soil, but it still feels a little surreal. 

It’s near impossible to just accept such a mundane-looking structure holds as universal of an importance as to have them on the field for weeks, maybe even months, or that it could even house the materials or the proper personnel to build something as massive as a piece of a dreadnought, when it would be normally expected for a facility this vital to be far more luxurious and extravagant with its looks and prominence, less cheapskate with the size and equipment of its garrison and defenses, and a little more conservative with its choice of leadership. Regardless, complaining about Corpus’ choice of vanguards and approaches for their projects may not be the bes idea when it’s their job to bring it down, and perhaps it’s just another product of the heavy toll the war is taking on everyone in the region, one that maybe, just maybe not even the workers of the great dreadnought project could escape. Maybe it serves them right.

“So what do we do here?” Ivara asks, snapping him out of his contemplation. He didn’t expect her to be done so quickly with her counseling, but the shock quickly fades to be replaced with a gentle air of comfort, much welcome under such dire circumstances.

“Well, the first course of action should be of course to draw a plan. I know we did quite well the first time we stormed one of these places with our new forms,” He doesn’t forget to mention, pointing at himself, at her and the gaudiest parts of their armors “but I would much rather prefer to follow an actual scheme instead of knocking down their door guns blazing and hoping nothing goes wrong. I don’t look and act quite as reckless as Valkyr, now do I?”

“Well, I don’t know, maybe those bull horns will make you a little bolder.” She teases, which leaves him utterly baffled and speechless, just staring at her while trying to accept she said what she said and it wasn’t his imagination messing with him. She just stares back, likely somewhat smug underneath her helmet, awaiting his hesitant response as the normally calm and collected fumbles around to come up with a solid string of words that may qualify as an actual, proper sentence.

“I-uh-well-uhm, what the hell did you just say?”

“That’s an interesting thought, do we Warframes actually believe in hell? At the very least we might or might not have a vague idea of an afterlife, but I’m not sure if the same could be said about a purgatory.”

“And now you’re pretending you didn’t say anything, what are you even on about?”

“Oh, nothing. Just me wanting to have some innocent chit-chatting with my very good friend Oberon, can’t I now?”

If smugness could be expressed through words any better than that, it’s hard to tell, she’s pretty much having a field day flustering him about, and he knows not how to respond to any of it.

“R-right, so I think you meant on the battlefield, and yeah, I can agree with you, these horns may make me look a little scarier, and it could have a nice effect out there, scaring foes away and all that.”

And just that quickly, he deflects any and all of her advances without him even realizing there were any in the first place, leaving her now as the baffled one in the exchange as he tilts his head with curiosity while she ends up shaking her head.

“It’s nothing, just wanted to crack a joke and improve the mood, given how broody the kid is back there.”

At the very least that concludes the awkwardness of the conversation, and their chat as a whole for the time being. At the very least she tried, something she could pat herself in the back for doing, and with enough effort and proper phrasing, perhaps she’ll be able to get it right next time.

As for Oberon, it’s time to call Valkyr again, to see if she’s been able to make any progress with his little suggestion. This occasion leaves him just slightly more tense, as she takes a bit longer than usual to pick up, an extreme rarity from someone as proactive as her most of the time, but when she finally takes the call:

“Alas, shalt thou have never - in life - expected to sow what you sever, in… Goddamnit, I really don’t know what I’m doing, could you help me out here?” Valkyr begs for Oberon’s assistance, as she clearly looks like she’s struggling her most in quite a while, even if it’s just a bit of poetry. Who would’ve thought such a hotheaded person’s greatest weakness would be artistry as rudimentary as coming up with a few rhymes and verses?

“Well, what do you want your poem to be about?”

“Right, shit, we’re off to an awful start, since it’s supposed to be private.”

“That’s definitely going to make teaching you far trickier than I anticipated, and I already wasn’t expecting it to be easy in the first place.”

“Hey, no need to patronize me either!” She complains in a surprisingly childish fashion that proves to be quite amusing to watch.

“Am I mistaken now, though?”

“Uh…” She struggles to find the will in herself to admit he’s right in his assumption “No, but-”

“I rest my case.” He concludes, which would send her into an amusing little tantrum where she’s get mad at the spot but still beg for his assistance, but since she’s got some company, she’s got to hold back, and besides, losing her mind over a poem wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do.

“Will you help me or not? We ain’t got all the time in the universe, and we have more than just a few things to do ahead of us, you should know this already.”

“Poetry isn’t as simple as someone else coaching you to write pretty-sounding lines, Valkyr, the art has to come from your very heart and let you express yourself the way you truly are.”

“Well, my heart right now is telling me that this is bullshit and I have better things to do.” She confesses, making her lack of any enjoyment from this exchange as clear as it can be. Oberon sighs back with exasperation and submits, finally giving in to her frustration and letting her opt not to force rhymes out of her head, or her heart, or whatever they may come from.

“So how about this?” He fixes his posture and clears his throat “You write your verses, stick with the lines you feel like are good, and show me those you’re not too sure about and I’ll evaluate them. Does that sound good to you?”

Valkyr takes a few seconds to consider this, looking away in contemplation as she measures the usefulness and profits this option could turn for her in the creative department. However, her doubt takes the best from her and makes her inquire a little further before accepting anything, requiring a full confirmation in all senses before proceeding with any bold propositions of his:

“Why does it still feel like you’d end up seeing most of, if not all lines I write?” She half-questions, half-admits with a rather defeated voice and shrunken posture.

“I personally doubt it, regardless of how little you believe in your own capabilities. I’m sure you’ll be able to make something you’ll be proud of with enough time and effort.”

At the very least seeing Valkyr shrug in response is enough of a positive reaction for him to feel satisfied with his own perseverance with this subject matter, especially now that it seems she wants this over with and end the call already, looking out into the distance next to her without even regarding how disrespectful it must be.

“Valkyr?” He calls out for her, to at least get from her the courtesy of receiving a farewell

“Right, sorry, there’s just things I gotta occupy myself with right now, along with all the stuff going through my head. Is there anything else you want to tell me that can’t wait?”

“No, that should be enough for the time being, just remember to keep trying out with that poem.”

“Oh, thank the Lotus this is over, no offense, and yeah, I’ll keep trying, just don’t blame me if it turns out to be awful.”

Oberon nods understandingly, which is the last thing she sees on her screen right before she shuts it off and finishes her call. Both her and him sigh almost in unison, even now that they can’t see or hear each other anymore, and accept what might be up ahead, as stressful as it may be, be it Oberon bearing her and her constant complaints, or Valkyr fighting to contain her constantly accumulating frustration, but anything they must go through to help her find satisfaction in the art of writing poetry should be worth the arduous journey.

“I hope it doesn’t turn into an utter shitshow.” She says in an attempt to console herself, looking back at her resting squadmates, and Deinos, sitting on the snow far too serenely for her liking. The raging horizon still demands her attention, though, now that it even includes a few explosions to shake things up a little after many tense minutes of silence that almost made them believe for a second that the conflict was over. She still has worries and questions aplenty, which unfortunately will have to go unfulfilled for the time being, as more pressing matters call for her and her action, and her companions, to keep fighting on while the blood drawn out in the fields still remains fresh.


	27. XXVI: Blaring Breakthroughs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both parties at each side of Venus keep advancing, each with their own tasks, their own trivial struggles to try to overcome, and their own feuds to set their seeds for something greater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Took. Forever.
> 
> I'm really sorry that I took so long to post again, I got caught in the middle of this chapter's length and I struggled for what felt like an eternity just to find the proper way to continue with the plotlines. These chapters just keep getting longer and longer (I'm not masochistic, I swear ;-;)
> 
> But yeah, I'm not done yet, expect much more in the future ;>  
> ;

“And where is he right now?”

Despite acting unrelenting with her interrogation to Deinos, even as they all move inside enemy territory to let the Grineer know they have unwelcome visitors, Valkyr isn’t able to budge a single inch, not even a single bit of valuable information from Deinos, as she’s never specific enough to be useful. As such, she now uses more basic questions as a last resort, given how the previous rounds that would’ve involved more private information didn’t provide with anything at all, much to her dismay. Either Deinos doesn’t know anything about what she’s asking for, which would be crazy considering how Alad would treat her almost like a surrogate daughter, or Valkyr has somehow found the one subject Deinos isn’t willing to let her know all about, which amusingly enough, might be even more insane.

“His ship.” Deinos couldn’t be any more frank than this, or bemusing, or innocent to a taunting degree, which of course, leaves Valkyr the opposite of pleased, but raging at the puzzled makeshift frame won’t yield any better results, so she saves it up for later, when it might prove infinitely more useful to discharge all that anger upon hordes of braindead clones they might meet once they make it through all these cursed trenches that feel more like a labyrinth made on purpose to toy with the squad’s collective patience.

Oberon isn’t feeling that much different. Sure, he doesn’t have his own Deinos to put up with, although Excalibur occasionally doesn’t help matters much in that sense, but infiltrating their very first dockyard comes as a challenge far greater than they had hoped. Watchtowers everywhere are just the beginning, as constantly guarding patrols in all imaginable spots allow for nearly zero nooks and crannies to be used for stealth come along to make their time sneaking in that much more unthinkable, and that doesn’t even count the sheer size of the building right up ahead. If the first dockyard they raided was big, this place is ludicrous, but in a way, it should’ve been expected, such defenses could only be worth giving to a facility matching in might, even if it’s the last thing they wanted to face, and it’s definitely something that, despite accounting for, Oberon couldn’t find a solution or workaround to not have to face it directly.

Guns blazing it is, then. Oberon and Ivara make their respective ammo checks, making sure they’re ready for an almighty struggle, and they look back to issue the same action as a suggestion to Betelgeuse and Excalibur, with varying amounts of eagerness as a response from them. Hopefully spilling enemy blood will shake off that reluctancy a little and bring back just the right energy this operation needs to succeed.

“Well, hopefully you guys have enough ammunition to sort through what’s up ahead.” Oberon comments “We might have a bit of a mess waiting to be created by us, since these people won’t just let us in if we ask nicely, will they now?”

Betelgeuse shrugs while Excalibur shakes his head.

“So that’s why we’re now opting for our last resort. The main plan hasn’t changed in the slightest, we’re still going to run in and-”

Before he can finish, he receives a call he wasn’t expecting at all, from Valkyr. He doesn’t remember asking her to hit him up at this very specific occasion, he didn’t even specify a time, so his confusion is understandable, and makes it through his small attempt to try to mask it under his trademark rationality, as soon as he picks up, but he isn’t the first one to speak:

“Could I get anything useful out of this raid to add to my poem?” Valkyr asks, leaving him in absolute bafflement.

“Valkyr, why did you have to ask this in this very moment instead of any other possible time?” He complains with unexpected harshness, shocking her quite a fair bit before she regains her composure and responds just as strongly.

“Come on, I’m heading on a mission, this could be my last chance in some time to ask you this, and it’s important while I still have it in my mind and haven’t forgotten to ask, so what do you think?”

Oberon’s facepalm somehow doesn’t manage to make itself audible through the call, and maybe that’s for the better, but he cuts himself some slack, having to deal with quite the unexpected and somewhat idiotic thing to ask in a time like this, sighing and mustering up the fortitude to reply with any semblance of responsible behavior without getting overrun by his opinion.

“Right, so, uh… I suppose it wouldn’t be impossible, I just don’t see why you would like to add such a thing to the poem.”

“Look, I’m not the poem expert here, I just thought it could be something pretty epic to give some flavor to the verses or whatever.”

“I mean, I can definitely see what you mean by that, but…” Oberon takes a moment to give it some consideration. It doesn’t sound like the best idea to add something like a battle scene to a poem, she’s not writing anything close to a theatre play or an epic comparable to the tales of old, making it that much more out-of-place. However, as much as he’d like to bring his own ideas into the writing, it wouldn’t feel right, since this isn’t his poem, it’s meant to be Valkyr’s personal project to relieve herself from any and all stress her position of leadership might cause her, and getting involved would mean tampering with what was never supposed to be his work, so against his own wishes, he gives in.

“You know what? Yeah, it might be worth a shot, at the very least, so go ahead.” He responds after seconds of dwelling his inner thought process for an answer.

“Really?” She appears quite surprised by this response “I thought you’d at least dispute it a bit more than this.”

“I’m not going to put into question what isn’t my job, it’s completely yours and you’re free to do as you wish with it, as long as it manages to help you, so feel free to add the fight if it even ends up taking place.”

Celebrations take place inside Valkyr’s mind, akin to a victory in a great battle that hasn’t even happened at all. For once, an idea of hers hasn’t been shut down for appearing to be the product of a mentally stunted kavat, and it also represents at least a small glimpse of progress, which to her feels like a monumental achievement when it comes to something like writing verses.

“Thank you so much, Oberon, I can finally keep advancing with this garbage!” She exclaims joyfully, before being interrupted by Wisp prodding her shoulder. A minute of silence follows, where Oberon nearly ends the call under the assumption that Valkyr has nothing else to add or has come upon an urgent predicament, but she comes back just as he’s about to hang up.

“Uh, yeah, I have things to take care of over here, but thank you, I hope I’ll be able to give this experience some good use later.” She comments as her way to say her farewell, ending the call rather abruptly right after. With that out of the way, Oberon can bring his focus back onto what truly matters, taking a hold of his staff and giving it a tentative spin. The sharp tip feels a little unbalanced to the left today, for whatever reason, hopefully that won’t have much of an impact when it’s time to cut through a half-dozen Corpus per swing.

Looking back at his companions, he notices that, despite any personal issues or hardships they might be dealing with, they’re as ready as they’ll ever be, and delaying the start of the mission any further won’t do them any favors, they better get this out the way already.

“Alright,” He speaks up, gathering their collective attention “let’s move.”

It’s no use to show any discretion, the frames draw their weapons and, without a real prompt, start gunning down anything that’s unfortunate enough to be alive and moving in front of their line of sight. In a matter of seconds, they attract a violent, retaliating audience of dozens of guards, not as heavily armed as they would be if they were in the raging conflict down south, but still enough to pose a threat if they know what they’re doing. Things are about to get dicey for Oberon’s team.

And speaking of the conflict raging down south, Valkyr and her group still haven’t found their way out of the trenches, although the increasing volume of the sounds of ongoing combat right above brings them hope that they’ll be in the open soon.

What’s curious about the frames, however, is how they have to listen to Valkyr constantly muttering and mumbling to herself throughout the journey, quietly enough so that it’s impossible to make out what she’s saying, but noticeable enough to remain a nuisance. A few more audible words slip every now and then, something about fighting the Grineer, with an astonishingly embellished twist, but it still doesn’t help her case at all.

“Can she just not shut up already?” Atropos quietly complains, catching Limbo and Wisp’s attention and concern. They definitely share her contempt, but perhaps they know it’s far from the wisest idea to just voice it, so they both simply shake their heads and bring the discussion to an abrupt end before it even begins, adding to her personal pile of irritation. And indeed, Valkyr doesn’t stop muttering to herself, advancing through the muddy underground completely unfazed or simply ignoring the difficulty of the terrain, which doesn’t really make the journey any faster or more bearable for the rest of the party.

However, there’s still a matter left to address, that happens to travel along with them and be called Deinos. Limbo chooses to be the one to bring it up:

“Valkyr, what are you going to do with her?” He asks whilst looking at the feral frame and her lack of mannerisms, emotions, or anything to express, wondering what such a thing could even be thinking about.

“Hmm?” Valkyr is caught off-guard, suddenly pulled from her little trance and realizing she’s still inside the trenches “Uh, damnit, I don’t know, I’m not even sure if she’s going to stick around with us.”

“She would give away our location if she… she was set free…” Wisp remarks without really making any effort to raise her voice or gain any sort of presence. However, this time the attention she receives isn’t chastising in the slightest. If anything, they seem to wholeheartedly acknowledge her point and agree with her, bringing a new sense of relief that washes all the tension off of her, letting out air in her lungs she didn’t even know she was holding. That small glimpse of approval she’s just received boosts her spirits high enough to at least look like she’s going to be willing to contribute something, anything, to the approaching fight.

“I’ll admit it, Limbo, I don’t want to be taking care of this thing as if it was a stupid child.” Valkyr confesses with heavy exasperation, until an idea comes to her, and she looks back to a quiet Deinos following her. Now that they’ve made it this far, it would be such a waste not to use Alad’s proud creation for her own gain, whether he likes it or not, and either way she wouldn’t care, so she decides it would be best to make her do something useful for once:

“Deinos,” She calls out for her, immediately earning her curious gaze “We’re going to fight the Grineer very soon, and I would like you to help, can you?”

Silence ensues, as the group keeps advancing through ditches and avoiding collapsing patches of mud, but Valkyr nods, seemingly having gotten the confirmation she needed, and proceeds back to the front of the formation. They can be glad to have one more sister-in-arms, ready to join in the battle, and maybe that will make the crowds they will soon combat that much less overwhelming and disorienting.

“So you’re going to make use of her after all?” Limbo steps forward to match her pace and questions her.

“Look, she’s my enemy’s daughter or whatever, but if she’s this gullible, I might as well make use of her while I still can.”

“Even if it might benefit him by literally letting her do what she might have been originally intended to do?”

“Do you have a better idea, then?” She snaps with growing displeasure, with clear discontent due to being chastised now of all times. Instead of saying anything and tasking the risk of escalating things any further, however, Limbo chooses to simply shake his head and concede for the time being, adding one last thing before withdrawing to his usual spot right behind her:

“Just keep that in mind, that’s all.”

Conveniently enough, the group finally makes it out of the maze of trenches right after he says this, getting hit by blinding daylight right away, and they’re met by a sight to behold when it fades. Grineer forts and outposts, all competing against each other to see which one can mask the horizon the most and become the dominant feature of the area with its ugly architecture and even uglier-looking garrison, but it’s not like the Grineer ever tried to do themselves a favor appearance-wise anyways. At the very least the Warframes will have more than plenty of targets to choose, that is if hitting one location doesn’t set off alarm bells on the rest, which is a plain naive hope or assumption to make, they’re going to have to fight with tooth and nail through Lotus knows how many foes in order to make it deeper into enemy territory.

“Well, let’s see how well this makeshift frame of Alad’s can perform.” Limbo comments to raise the team’s spirits, wielding twin pistols and temporarily assuming the role of squad leader while Valkyr still remains focused on her own matters, which unknown to them, might be a little too trivial to justify.

“Down to dust… Or bones… No, that’s not right.” She says to herself as she still faces a monumental struggle to choose her words, but for once not sounding outright pessimistic. Even with all the confidence she may feel towards her chosen subject, it can’t shake off the fact that she doesn’t even know how to phrase it at the moment, now hoping that she’ll be able to sort it out throughout the mission’s runtime.

Even then, she follows her team seamlessly, moving through dirt and debris while they can still take advantage of their status as unnoticed for as long as it may last, now that they’re alarmingly close to the outposts and begging to be spotted. It’s only the constantly hailing cinder and the smoke that covers their progress from being too obvious, but it’s only for so long, as they’re soon discovered by a guarding clone atop one of the watchtowers, setting them off sprinting almost immediately after their ears catch the sound of sirens going off. Soon, they will have hundreds of Grineer on them, chasing them through the ruined plains and hills laid out before their eyes, but as long as it means they make for a decent diversion, it’ll be worth it, and after all, it’s still a reliable source of entertainment for the Warframes. 

Hopefully striking the zone is enough to discourage further enemy incursions in the region, leaving plenty of room for future operations, and letting the conflict drag on for as long as possible. After all, there’s so much to gain from having both sides most hostile and troublesome to the Lotus against each other, especially if her subjects can have a say and open participation in the matter.

“Tyrants… Sirens… Shit, this isn’t working at all!” Valkyr voices her frustration as she runs in, followed by the rest of the team with guns already in their hands. Despite there not being much of a wall to speak of, they still have to get through a tough enough barrier in the form of Grineer grouping up below the outposts to face the incoming threat, and one of those frames that represent such looming menace looks particularly hungry in a literal sense, wielding her shotgun as her limbs ignite and acquire a slight orange tinge, and staring at the dozen clueless clones that stand before her and think they can pose a worthy challenge to her or her captors. If they want to get them, they better be ready to fight for their damn lives, although it’s not like they’re worth that much if they can just be cloned over and over again without many repercussions aside from genetical corruption, which isn’t much of a loss when it’s the Grineer. 

More lancers show up to oppose them, forming a thin battle line of about a hundred soldiers, all pointing their weapons to a single focal point, much to the frames’ joy. They’re going to have a damn entertaining showdown, displayed by Limbo’s uneasy stance as he rubs his hands against the guns he currently holds, or Valkyr’s smug, confident posture she holds with pride apart from remaining moderately distracted by the versing thoughts inside her head that never seem to match up with one another, gazing down upon her sharpened, dry claws that long for a fresh coat of bloody red, and Deinos would imitate her, if she wasn’t holding a pesky shotgun that awaits being unloaded upon a dozen fools. The only one that doesn’t showcase evident excitement is a hesitant Wisp, who seems determined to defend herself, but not to the point of yearning for impending bloodshed, holding her gun steadily without stepping away from Limbo’s shadow, her small safe haven now that she has the chance to seize it while it lasts. She stands there shyly, a non-fitting attitude in the battlefield, and she’s grateful that her unintended guardian doesn’t turn around to watch her in her shameful state. Regardless, they’re as ready as they’ll ever be, and after seconds of a tense staredown between both opposing sides, they finally jump at each other’s throats, raining down a hailstorm of different projectiles before they can even get their hands onto anything at melee range. No matter how uneventful it might look on the grand scheme of things, this duel holds the keys to a slaughterhouse, waiting for the butchers to burst in after they fight off some of its most daring cattle, yet unbeknownst to them, they’re just part of the whole field day the frames are going to have with an army that felt brave enough to assault Corpus and expected little to no consequences out of it. There’s no such thing as fair game when it’s all about exploiting the weakness of two warring factions, and with such a precious opportunity for the frames, it’s now or never. This better make a fine epic to recite.

As for Oberon, his battle right outside the dockyard continues, bodies dropping left and right as further Corpus soldiers lose their lives, unwilling to give in and forfeit what might quite possibly be their collective magnum opus. However, no amount of resistance will detain the Warframes when they’re up against subjects of mortality, frail as they are without Helminth corrupting their blood and ripping away their humanity, as the Tenno advance slowly but steadily while their enemies fall back when they watch the overwhelming amount of casualties around them. In no time, the frames are stepping into the facilities themselves, a snowy courtyard laid upon them and waiting to be brought down to rubble, evident through Betelgeuse holding the bomb in one of his hands while the rest of the team stays in front and sprints through the open to storm inside the first large target on sight: the storage room.

Of course, it is to be expected that such a location would have more than just a few buildings scattered all throughout with the sole purpose to store supplies and materials, and for once, the Corpus higher-ups made a wise choice and spread the things required to produce the ship part they’ve been put in charge of making, all over the different structures assigned with housing them. Even in all their wisdom, this represents nothing but a small bump in the road for the frames’ plan, which ultimately means they can spare an explosive and focus on thrashing the place with their own hands, presenting a tempting opportunity to scavenge for supplies to keep for themselves.

Even then, it’s a lot more work than they originally expected, which is understandably a big let down, especially for the explosives expert in the team. Being unable to even do the one thing he could be useful at sure hits him with the strength of a crashing meteor, bringing him further away from his squad with the total opposite of thrill or excitement taking over his being. It’s definitely not a sight he would hope his sister to witness, much adding to the testament that he’s not worth anything at all without her by his side, he’s just as useful as she is still inside her cryopod, immobile and slumbering without any care for the outside world or universe around her whilst her mind keeps itself in stasis. In a way, it’s almost taunting, to know she’s so vital to his well-being, that he can’t remain separated from his babysitter, a laughable display from who’s supposed to be a killing machine to say the least.

A bullet hitting his shields brings him back to reality. It’s easy to ignore just how many defenders this location actually houses, and how unwise it is in fact to lower your own guard in the middle of a showdown that has the frames holding their ground in front of the entrance, more and more Corpus rushing them down wielding electrified batons with the ill intent to beat the living hell out of them, yet with negligible success apart from gaining minimal terrain inside their own workplace that doesn’t last for too long before they get chopped down to bits and pieces. However, as usual, the dusk frame doesn’t get involved too much, if at all, why even bother if it wouldn’t end up as anything other than a disappointment? He’s just as remarkable sitting on the sidelines or in this case, standing there and watching with his gun held down while the almighty Oberon, Ivara and Excalibur take care of business that is supposed to be his as well. It couldn't be any more of a discouraging sight, to see their competency and talent, there is no way he could match or live up to those standards, but he knows someone that would, and she’s currently sleeping inside a cryopod, her grave wounds being tended and watched over by the day, all because he couldn’t be there to protect her.

His melancholy doesn’t go unnoticed. Oberon, despite being somewhat occupied with the defense of their position, still has enough room to split his attention and keep an eye on him and his inactivity, wondering what could be going on inside the kid’s head that could be troubling him so deeply. It clearly doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together and remember Aldebaran, unable to blame him for being worried, even amidst the thrill of battle. He would reach out if he could, but it isn’t an option while he’s still dealing with a constant hail of steel flown his way, forcing his staff-holding hand into perpetual motion that leaves him in place without a chance to move out of the way. It’s still a decent thought to keep in mind for later, and at the end of the day, the kid may still be able to make some good use of the advice.

And Valkyr could use some as well. The thrill of the battle can keep her more worried thoughts somewhat away not to trouble her amidst her killing spree, supported by her allies raining gunfire upon daring Grineer whose best bet for survival is to recklessly wield machetes and charge head-on into their demise as their comrades gift suppressing fire that manages to do nothing when the frames are constantly jumping around and dodging any danger that might come their way. To make matters even worse for the defenders, there’s Deinos, seeking to sate her hunger, and she shows not a single gram of doubt as she claws down anything that is stupid enough to approach her. The further forward the frames advance, the brighter her limbs glow, and the more frantic she moves around the field, bashing skulls into mush and stripping clueless foes off their limbs at the blink of an eye before they can even catch their breath and realize they’re at the brink of death. Clones keep falling down and back, withdrawing into their own territory the more their numbers deplete until they reach a critical low that forces them into a full-on rout, splitting into shattered groups that retreat all over the place, leaving the frames to savor the fruits of their brief victory.

Panting Warframes stare at each other whilst drenched in enemy blood, checking their status and finding relief when they notice all of them are just fine. However, they’re also quick to notice Valkyr, and how despite the dirty brawl they just went through, she still appears just as distracted and absent-minded as before, completely ignorant of the trail of blood her feet and dripping digits leave behind, let alone the rest of her body drenched in red.

But compared to the following sight, that’s just child’s play. No Tenno could ever claim they wouldn’t be surprised if they had to watch Deinos, down to her knees, a pile of bodies in front of her, and many of them already half-consumed. Yes, the makeshift frame is eating the lifeless corpses of the Grineer in bulk, her limbs glowing a bright orange every time another piece of meat travels down her gullet. All the frames can do is stand around her, speechless, wondering how that could even be physically possible for what’s supposed to be a cheap imitation of their physiology, possibly down to the creation method, and why she would even need to do it in the first place, although their questions will have to wait to be answered, now that they turn around to face the largest Grineer force they’ve had to face yet, probably about five times the size of the previous one, which speaks volumes about the power held by simply calling for reinforcements. 

The frames now wish they could ask for the same privilege, clearly outnumbered who knows how many clones per each one of them present, an intimidating sight to behold regardless of all their Helminth might, and yet, neither Valkyr nor Deinos seem to care in the slightest, the former too dozed off to fathom the danger up ahead, and the latter too occupied reinvigorating herself with a feast fit for a king of filth. Even then, they get ready for a fight, the product of Corpus experimentation wielding her shotgun that has seen zero usage all day, finally ready to shine after its owner has gathered enough energy to get the most out of it, and Valkyr looks excited to a certain degree as well, wondering what kind of lines she’s going to be able to pull out of this experience as soon as it’s over.

“The sun thus sets… Upon the horizon of hundreds dead… Okay, that one was dogshit, this fight better be worth it.” She rambles to herself, raising her claws once again and noticing the blood on them after somehow having ignored it for that long, a short distraction that goes away when the Grineer frontline charges forward with a mix of lancers, melee soldiers and heavy gunners to add much needed flavor to the encounter. There is no way this couldn’t end up as a great poem to recite and be admired by peers and spectators alike when it’s completed.

Oberon’s triumphant advance continues, right after making a royal mess out of one of the storage rooms they’ll be raiding today, and Excalibur gets ahead of the group, far too much for anyone’s comfort, taking the lead with a sense of initiative that never ceases to astound them, batting and hacking away anything that feels daring or foolish enough to get in the way of his battle-induced trance, human or machine. It’s almost as if his life depended on his actions at this very instant, battling like he could collapse and let his heart shatter from giving up as soon as he’s over, his whole existence has brought him to the point where he, in his most primal senses, can fulfill his destiny as one of the chosen to carry the Helminth curse in his blood, and spill Corpus blood with no discrimination to cull the demon that’s taken over his soul and his senses, now that he’s so enraptured by the pace of the fight to care about anything anymore, even if it brings him away from his actual objective.

The rest of the squad walks into another one of the storage rooms, all except for Excalibur, who stays outside and continues fending off the pesky corporate garrison, which they take as a willful distraction and an incentive for them to go in without him. As off as it looks to see him act like he’s in autopilot, it’s better to let him do his thing and ask any questions later while he still proves to be useful with his methods, especially if it’s that effective at drawing enemy attention away from them while still threatening to get rid of their lives.

Another large cache of supplies stands proud before their eyes, and they waste no time thrashing about and rendering it completely useless in heaps of scrap and ashes. Another easy job quickly taken care of, thanks to Excalibur’s assistance as bait, although it looks like he’s getting a little too carried away, jumping straight into the enemy formation and acting like a general nuisance that just happens to have deadly combat capabilities, blatantly ignoring the sounding alarms and notifications from his shields slowly getting chipped away. He shows no signs of holding back, even when the bullets start making contact with his armor and some entering his body, burning through plate, flesh and tissue, which only seem to drive him forward further, slashing away in retaliation towards those that tarnished him with such vile intent.

In the meantime, Oberon, Ivara and Betelgeuse look around to decide their next target, taking no time to spot the next and final storage room in plain sight waiting to be destroyed, right at the other side of the facility across a recently set-up barricade. Corpus is really starting to get fed up with their presence at this point, sending more and more troops into the open to deal with these things that aren’t even killing too many of their men anymore, just acting like uninvited guests whose stay has been long overdue and now they’re just not welcome if they ever were to begin with. If they’re just here to make a mess out of their livelihoods, their presence is unacceptable, and the Warframes aren’t even attempting anything to help their own case, their job is to leave the place unusable and that’s exactly what they’re going to do, kicking down the makeshift barricade standing in their way and rushing past the Corpus soldiers aiming their guns at them before they can even consider pulling the triggers or discover that they’re bleeding out from arrow wounds that happened so fast they couldn’t register the pain until their foes are long gone.

Another storage room, another mess to create, and thanks to Excalibur’s support as the perfect distraction, the team is able to take the task more calmly this time. Looting crates, breaking glass and fragile artifacts, bending and turning solid metals into junk and scrap, nothing goes past them as they wreck to and fro until nothing in sight can be used for anything, but without the frantic sense of hurry they had to face previously.

For Oberon, it is now or never, Tossing aside two pieces of scrap in his hands, he steps closer to Betelgeuse, currently distracted doing as much as he can to destroy enemy supplies without taking center stage, and places a hand on his shoulder that alarms him right away and leaves him pointing his gun at his head before he notices it’s Oberon himself who he’s threatening and withdraws his weapon, lowering his gaze in shame. However, before he can apologize, the elk speaks up:

“How are you doing, kid?” He asks him gently.

“Eh?” Betelgeuse first appears visibly confused, having been interrupted and disturbed by this superior entity just for the sake of checking on his well-being “Yeah, I’m alright, but I don’t see where the need to ask came from.”

“You just seemed not to be here, if you get what I’m referring to.” Oberon points out, making sure to choose each of his words carefully. This clearly brings a new sense of discomfort to Betelgeuse, who shifts about a little and looks away to hide his embarrassment, and as amusing of a sight as it may be, it confirms all of Oberon’s doubts in a single go, without even any need for much of a further exchange for words, although Betelgeuse continues despite this:

“Sorry, I just, uhm… I have been waiting for a call, that’s it.”

And now the elk’s interest is piqued to not be removed until he’s successfully pried further into this matter, as it still appears to deeply trouble Betelgeuse, and a worried squadmate is something he refuses to have in the team while he’s still the leader. So, as soon as Betelgeuse tries to turn around, he grabs him by the shoulder, regaining his attention once again, and asks:

“And who is going to call you?”

Betelgeuse’s uneasiness increases tenfold, a necessary concession to face in order to bring him out of his comfort zone and make some actual progress, and he rubs his hands against each other, carefully constructing a sentence inside his head with the hopes of not making himself any more of a shameful mess than he might already be in front of everybody, right before scrapping it and forcing himself to start from scratch until he meets Oberon’s gaze again and remembers that he’s left him waiting for a response, how embarrassing.

“Uh, ah…” His nervousness slips through and gets the best of him before he can even form a single word, figuring that it would be a decent enough idea to put away his gun while he’s not using it. He really has to steel himself with a heft of valor just to gain the courage to complete his confession, a strange occurrence unless the call happens to be about something far more intimate than Oberon expected. Now he’s getting really concerned about the answer he might receive, but not for long:

“Banshee, she…” Betelgeuse finally responds, albeit almost murmuring through his teeth, as if he was begging to himself for no one to listen “She’s been constantly checking on my sister ever since I left. She tells me about her condition everyday, and I… haven’t exactly received any good news about her recovery for a while.”

And that definitely couldn’t have been any more enlightening. Oberon nods away with a new sense of understanding for his situation, accepting the toll that admitting a personal matter of such degree to him must’ve taken on Betelgeuse, who’s looking down at the cold steel floor again to cover up his regret. The kid could really use some words of encouragement, Oberon thinks, and he clears his throat while withdrawing his hand off his shoulder:

“You’re a good guy, Betelgeuse,” He responds in reassurance “and an ever better brother, if you ask me.”

Betelgeuse’s gaze raises in disbelief, unable to comprehend why he hasn’t been berated by his lack of fortitude, but Oberon isn’t done just yet:

“Not everybody can claim they have a sibling that cares about them so deeply, especially even if they’re in the middle of a crucial operation. Despite all of our problems and setbacks, you’ve always found room to keep an eye on her in one way or another, going out of your way to know if she’s okay or not at the expense of your combat prowess, and in all honesty, I personally find that to be admirable.”

The dusk frame stands there baffled, struggling to accept each and every single word that’s been pronounced his way. In a way, he still finds it flattering, for his deepest worries to have been received so positively takes him aback and for once shatters the hazy, pessimistic vision he has of himself, giving Oberon the necessary opening to wrap up his praise and switch to more urgent advice:

“What would she think about you right now?” He asks, maintaining his calm composure.

“She? Who are you referring to?” Betelgeuse questions with confusion and glimpses of fear alike, fingers crossed behind his back hoping that he’s not talking about-

“Aldebaran, of course.” Oberon reiterates, confirming what Betelgeuse was most afraid of “Do you think she would be proud of you worrying about her this much?”

“... Uh… I…” Betelgeuse faces an almighty effort like nothing else that he’s had to deal with before, just to find what to say and how to express it, forcing Oberon to continue with his own side of the argument.

“She seemed to take much pride in her talent as a fighter while she was still active, else she wouldn’t have stepped up against Deinos back at that factory. I don’t doubt in the slightest that she would appreciate you caring about her to such a degree, but would she be as happy to see you here not doing anything but mourning for her day after day as she would be seeing you out there making a name for yourself on the battlefield?”

Betelgeuse stays silent, although for the first time, he has enough courage to keep his eyes raised from the ground. Oberon didn’t need to say anything blunt or insulting to get his point across, but it still hits him hard, nearly petrifying him as he tries to fathom the behavior he’s had up to this point, and whether it’s really the best thing for him to do or not.

Before he can wonder for much longer, the party’s already moving out of the building, everything that could’ve once been used to make a dreadnought part now reduced to nothing but scraps and ashes, and the only thing left to do is to enter the main factory itself and wreck the whole place with an explosive powerful enough to leave the facility looking like the product of reckless carpet bombing. However, it’s still worth for him to keep all of Oberon’s words in mind, as it’s at the very least better than no advice at all, and maybe he’s right, Aldebaran would much rather see him stand proudly for himself against all odds, not whimper away in a corner until she returns to babysit him some more, that’s not an attitude fit for a Warframe, let alone one that’s meant to take care of themselves in front of the Lotus and her puppets, as helpful as they may have been up to this point.

The team is on the move once again, coming out to be stopped on their tracks almost immediately by the sight of Corpus ships descending around the area. It was obviously a matter of time since they arrived to make a royal mess that reinforcements would be called, but it still amazes them how quickly they’ve come to the crime scene. That is until they see plenty of soldiers running out of the facility, guns raised to the sky for whatever reason, and for the most jaw-dropping sight they’ve presenced yet, the troopers up in the skybound ships exchange gunfire with those at ground level. Most worryingly, however, is the fact that Excalibur is nowhere to be seen, although a very obvious trail of blood and severed body parts leaves them a good clue for where he could be, it’s just a matter of following it at this point. Seizing the unexpected, yet rather welcome distraction that is this impromptu betrayal, Oberon and company advance through the red-coloured snow and gore that creates a makeshift path, strangely enough leading them inside the main factory building itself. It seems the Warframe went in amidst his bloodlust before any of them could even notice he was absent, getting himself into unforeseen, but still expected trouble, and he’s likely still in the middle of a fight for his life when it all should’ve just remained little more than a mere distraction. Oberon’s definitely going to need to have a lengthy talk with him after this.

And in no time, they come across the master of distractions himself, panting heavily as he holds a bloody, shattered skana in his hand, and a Corpus worker begging for their lives in the other. The reason why couldn’t be any more evident, as what must have previously been a busy, bustling lobby with people walking around carrying tools and supplies to do their job, only remains as a glorified slaughterhouse, with plenty of corpses somehow stapled to the walls, blood staining the formerly white carpet, and panicking cries for help still being uttered from other rooms, echoing through the hallways.

“Excalibur, what is all of this?” Oberon asks with genuine confusion, reaching out to try and redirect his attention, but a Corpus worker’s head is already rolling on the floor before he can do anything about it, and that’s not even it. When he finally grasps his shoulder, an exhausted Excalibur gets a surge of energy, straightening his back and pressing the half-blade he still holds against Oberon’s throat and not showing any remorse for it until a few seconds later, backing away and dropping the broken sword on the ground when he gains back his senses. Despite all he might have done up to this point, the shock in his body language seems genuine, and it increases tenfold when he looks around and almost falls to his knees in utter disbelief of his action, as if he couldn’t accept he did any of this, or even comprehend how any of this could happen in the first place. At the very least he looks docile enough for Oberon and Ivara to come forward and reach out to him, pulling him back into the group while he still looks all over the place like a frightened animal.

“Excalibur, for the love of Lotus, what the hell did just happen and what is up with you?” Oberon questions, half-chastising him for all the things he’s done and staying away from the group just to cause these horrors, half-grasping for any answers he can get from a turnout of events as jarring and baffling as this.

“Ah-I-Oberon, I-I don’t know, I’m so sorry.” Excalibur replies between heavy pants “I was just trying to help, a-and somehow I-”

“That’s not what I asked. What is going on with you and why are you acting so strange?” Oberon repeats before he can try to deflect, even keeping him nearby with a tight grasp on his shoulder so that he doesn’t flee to avoid having to answer. The poor frame that just lost his mind for a good few minutes now faces the last thing he ever wanted to have to deal with, with no chance or window to escape, at the very least evade until they’re not handling a compromise as delicate, and no matter for how long he tries to stall, the rest will always be there, awaiting a response for his strange behavior.

Sensing Excalibur’s overwhelming discomfort, Oberon lets go of his arm, allowing him to put some much needed space between the two of them. The extra field of view also gives him a clear look at his shivering self, a state he would’ve never expected to see him experience, and the sheer terror he might be dealing with right now, increasing his curiosity as for what could be plaguing his being to the point of turning into a completely different individual. Rendering Excalibur completely useless isn't an option, though, forcing Oberon to admit defeat.

“Just… Stick with the group from now on, alright?” He tells him with obvious disappointment “We can talk about this later, but please, I’ll have to keep an eye on you for the time being, so don’t get too far from us.”

To be treated like a disobedient child is the last thing Excalibur wanted, but deep down he knows he can’t blame them at all either. Even if giving Corpus a more than just unpleasant set of visitors was their original plan, the execution from his part has most certainly left plenty to be desired, regardless of how hard he tried to keep himself together. The only thing he can be glad about is the fact that the mission is so close to being finished, the only thing left between them and their remaining two targets, the production lines and the energy plants, are just long hallways of monotonous grey, white and steel making up the walls and ceiling, no one else willing to oppose them after an apparent insurrection took place right outside, added to one of the Warframes tearing their colleagues to pieces. 

In times like these, it’s easy to look past Corpus workforce loyalty faltering so greatly, as just one more thing to deal with in the grander scheme of things, but it’s never going to be easy for the frames to look at an empty facility that isn’t solely the product of their own mischief, without an uncanny feeling creeping up from the depths of their psyches to slowly invade their thoughts and remind them of how wrong it feels not to face any more foes just because they didn’t feel like throwing their lives away for once. Alas, letting time go to waste to find awe in their own minds won’t get them anywhere when their whole objective is to blow up stuff, there’s plenty of opportunities for questioning and contemplation when their lives are seemingly eternal unless an unforeseen event or disaster takes them away, thus when Oberon takes a step forward, everyone follows, and it’s just a matter of time before they can say they’ve succeeded.

And success reaches Valkyr at the other side of the planet as well. Her team are having a field day turning brave platoons and squadrons of defiant Grineer into scared masses whose best bet is to run away as their peers drop dead left and right. Even in all their idiocy, self-preservation is somehow an instinct these clones have managed to preserve after generations and generations of genetic tainting, reminding them that if they want to stay alive, they better run the hell away, as far from the frames as they can.

The further bodies that fall down, the more footing Valkyr and her team gain, getting them that much more inside enemy territory that waits eagerly for their visit, and now that the remaining Grineer are all routing to keep themselves alive, nothing stands in their way.

All except for an elite battalion, that is, comprised a few lancers whose armor and insignias clearly indicate they belong to Regor’s Tubemen, and a few heavier, taller units holding warhammers to mix things up a bit. The frames are finally glad they might face an actual challenge, after long minutes of just endless standoffs against cowering foes that couldn’t meet their standards, yet they also face the surprise of meeting some of Regor’s men, something they weren’t expecting at all. Regardless, as long as it adds some spice to the poem, Valkyr’s going to be more than happy to fight just one more time before moving on, and her team agrees with that sentiment for the most part, putting aside their growing weariness to set that one more obstacle aside and finally be able to say they’re done after a long day of endless fighting that gained them not that much footing per casualty. These final opponents are at the same time their figurative and quite literal gateway to the rest the Grineer empire has brought to conquer a whole region, and the frames wouldn’t let them go by without reminding them of who’s really running things around this neighbourhood.

The first shot is fired by Atropos, eager to get things over with as soon as possible, snapping a lancer’s mask off their face to kickstart the exchange of gunfire between both parties. While the Tubemen rely on the resilience and thickness of their heavy armor, they also have to deal with a handful of Warframes hopping all over the place, practically running laps around them, neither side able to make a significant dent when it’s that tricky to deal any damage. In a matter of seconds, what once looked like a fairly one-sided encounter in each side’s eyes now shows the ugly prospect of a stalemate, which is exactly the last thing the frames wanted to be dealing with, and one of the things the Tubemen were looking for in order to allow their comrades to escape and bring in reinforcements.

However, it’s still fights like these that are worth putting into the epics, the ones you’d hear in the eddas of old, and Valkyr knows this, desperate to end the bout in a satisfactory fashion that doesn’t lead to the encounter dragging on and on. In this hurry, she pounces onto one of the warhammer-wielding brutes, way before they can even react, and claws away in wild abandon, leaving marks and scratches in the pieces of metal she doesn’t tear away. In an almost idolizing fashion, Deinos does the same, her energy renewed, after shooting a scorching hot shotgun blast point-blank through a Tubeman’s chest and leaving them to bleed out and die on the ground if the lack of a few vital organs doesn’t do that job first. It’s strange to see an imitation that is able to replicate the original to such an eerily exact degree, as if Deinos was a precise copy of the valkyrie down to her very instincts, and they can’t help but mirror each other’s actions when their lust for blood and glory takes over.

They cannot complain about the results, though. A formerly strong and near invincible bunch of Tubemen are being torn to shreds, of course those are only the ones both frames reach, while the rest keep raining down bullets at their constantly moving forms to no avail, shields and sheer target agility getting in the way, allowing for the rest of Valkyr’s team to step in, putting their ranged weaponry aside, to handle matters with their own hands.

Atropos’ dual Kama, which she only adopted due to Limbo using them as well and turning out to be practical enough for her standards, haven’t touched fresh blood in quite a while, so finally spotting some action represents a change of pace from using a hybrid rifle the whole time. Moreover, the closeness of her foes allows for totally free usage of an ability she didn’t get much of a chance to showcase up to this very moment. Upon raising her arm, an energy field bathes her, her allies and her foes in a thirty-foot radius, and before they can even put her action into question, the frames find themselves suddenly strengthened, sped up, their reflexes increased, their senses sharpened, and their urge to kill driven front and center, although all of these effects and statuses are delivered randomly to each of them instead of it being consistent, and the same is the case with the debuffs and detriments the Tubemen receive, all of them received at random by each one of them to make matters that much more confusing.

At the end of the day, a buff is a buff. The frames seize their regained vigor and put it to good use by tearing the weakened Tubemen a new one and a half before relieving them from their lives just as quickly. The grace of their technique finds a rare opportunity to shine in the climax of the confrontation, now that a spent duo of Warframes stay behind after clawing everything on sight, allowing for the rest of the team to showcase their own skill, and for once, Wisp is able to display a certain degree of assertivity, taking a step forward and whacking stuff inbound with her Fulmin rifle before letting her pair of daggers out for the first time ever. Taking a timid, yet still effective battle stance, she scans her surroundings to find a few more foes wobbling around amidst the chaos, immediately jumping one of the taller brutes before he can slowly raise his hammer to protect himself. Dropping his heavy weapon, he grasps upwards for his head, as Wisp is standing on top of his shoulders, but she’s swift to slit his throat right as he’s about to get a hold of her ankles, dropkicking off him to leave him to drown in his own blood on top of the snow. The remaining lancers that stand in front of her to present the last bit of opposition against their advance, and they don’t stand a chance when her Sol Gate scorches their faces down to the bone, leaving all but one of them dead, and that last one is unfortunate enough to be the last kill these frames strive for.

It’s a race between Wisp and Atropos to steal the last body to add to the kill count, both of them sprinting at top speed towards a fleeing Tubeman, melee weaponry in hand and ready to claim the glory of finishing the battle with their own hands, but it ends abruptly when a single string of energy pierces through his heart and concludes the chase. When Wisp turns around, her disappointment meets its origin, upon discovering Atropos, standing perfectly still with her arm raised forward, a single finger extended, and that same thread of death coming from the fingertip.

“Let’s not waste any further time here, my patience is already running thin from just doing these trivial tasks.” She complains, demanding their utmost immediate leave of absence, making Valkyr turn around to confront her.

“Hold on there, girl, who put you in charge all of a sudden?” She asks, pressing a finger against her shoulder, and posing a reminder that she’s not in control, this valkyrie is. However, not willing to stand any sort of humiliation, Atropos swats her hand away and glares her back without losing a single bit of authority, ensuing a standoff between the two of them while the rest stands around and watches.

“I don’t think you little lapdog have any right to call yourself a leader when you’ve been caught daydreaming more than anything.” Atropos responds back, holding her ground.

“Like that’s any of your business, the best you can do for this team is endlessly judge like you’re the most perfect thing that’s ever roamed this damn system!”

“At the very least I’m not your Lotus’ submissive bitch-”

Atropos’ insult is cut short by Valkyr getting a grip of her neck, which she responds to in kind by pressing a Kama to her midriff. The rest of the frames raise their gun and prepare to intervene, that is until Valkyr tightens her hold on Atropos’ throat, forcing a choking cough out of her lungs followed by a gasp for air, but it’s still not enough to put her life in danger. Valkyr obviously doesn’t intend to seriously harm Atropos by any means, sending a message is all that matters to her, and perhaps a lack of oxygen will humble down someone so egotistical for once.

Upon her breath being obstructed, Atropos drops her Kama on the snowy ground, reaching up to her neck in an attempt to free herself. Valkyr brings her second hand to that same spot in order to prevent this, and it works flawlessly, bringing the fateful frame down to her knees in a helpless position that would’ve previously never been expected from her. Her throat still isn’t obstructed enough to impede her from speaking, though, verbally defending herself even in the middle of adversity.

“C-come on, make me faint… I’m sure y-your mistress would love that f-from you…”

“What do you gain from all this whining, huh?!” Valkyr asks, for once forcing a slight charisma break from her “We have a fucking job, not because my oh so lovely Lotus ordered us, but because it’s our mission as Warframes to keep the upper hand in the system!”

“By b-being so self serving…”

Valkyr stares at her, puzzled as to what she could be referring to, yet still not letting go of her under any circumstances. So far away from anything that could personally involve any of them, she wonders what issues Atropos could have even carried onto something completely unrelated like the expedition, for no reason at all, as she can assume from the frame’s track record of endless slander. Limbo, however, doesn’t look surprised in the slightest, watching the exchange from a distance without much concern to be seen in his figure. Wisp can only look at him and imagine why he would feel so confident not to consider intervening, until they both turn their heads and spot Deinos creeping up and getting prepared to join in, likely to provide Valkyr with some unexpected assistance. It’s up to them, then, to step in and restrain her before her instincts make her do anything stupid, as it seems Valkyr is too distracted to notice this incident, so they grab Deinos by her wrists before she can get any closer, pulling her back to a safer position where her opening maw is an easier problem to deal with.

To their own shock, she doesn’t use her powerful jaw and her sharp teeth to pose more of a threat, rather keeping her mouth open to express her surprise. It seems this fiend of a frame isn’t used to utilizing her bite as an offensive tool, further adding to the idea that she’s much more like Valkyr than any first impression would make someone think, perhaps they were meant for each other all along, if they’re so much like looking at each other in a mirror, although it would help a lot as well if they weren’t occasionally so problematic.

The confrontation isn’t over yet, though, Valkyr finally puts two and two together inside her own head, tightening her grip on Atropos neck the furthest she can without downright putting her life in danger, pulling her up to her feet and dragging her face so close to her own that she can directly feel her breath against her helmet.

“Let me guess, you big arrogant twat.” The valkyrie frame speaks up with newfound harshness added to her tone “Your sorry ass just can’t move on from any old pals you might’ve had in the past?”

Everyone is caught off-guard by this, Atropos herself included, bombarding an already tough scene with a heavy load of discomfort that becomes the central mood nearly instantly. The focus is brought to what response could coValkyrme from the fateful frame, her breathing room restrained in the literal sense, but all she does is keep her head down, and her attempts to free herself fade away, merely keeping her hands close to her endangered air canal just in case she’s choked any tighter, but luckily for her, it doesn’t happen.

“Valkyr, where are you getting this assumption from?” Limbo brings up after making sure Deinos is properly held back and doesn’t pose a threat that could snap off his and Wisp’s grasp the moment they lower their guards.

“What do you think we were made for, Limbo?” She asks sincerely but still holds herself with pride, to which he shrugs and she promptly continues “To fight as a team. Very few Warframes work for themselves, let alone back in the days of the Old War when we probably all had to stick with each other at all times not to get slaughtered. As much of an insufferable asshole that she might be, she must’ve had a squad, either as the leader or just a mere member, and now she’s all sad that she’s with us instead of them.”

“W-why do you even… C-care…?” Atropos questions the integrity behind bringing this up, struggling to draw air into her lungs.

“So I’m not mistaken?” Valkyr points out, making Atropos look away “That means you indeed have a team somewhere in this system, and your clingy ass misses them so much that it turns you into an insensitive prick who contributes nothing to the mission!”

Valkyr’s tone becomes more and more patronizing the longer she goes on, but the rest can’t help but recoil in unease, having to witness such an uncomfortable subject to handle now of all times simply due to a petty feud that’s gotten out of hand. By now, the other frames are stepping in to intervene, as Valkyr begins to get really heated up.

“Do you think we don’t have people we miss too, back in Fortuna, in other planets, or any of the relays, you selfish bastard?! But you don’t see us groaning and acting all supeerior the whole fucking time, do you now?! Do you?!”   
  


Amidst her rage, Valkyr ignores an already defeated Atropos that doesn't even dare raise her gaze, or how she inadvertently increases the strength of her hold around her neck, even pushing her further backwards, nearly making her touch the snowy soil underneath with her back before Limbo and Wsip step in to separate them.

“Valkyr, that’s enough, back off immediately.” He says as he reaches around behind her back and pulls her away, while Wisp gets her hands off Atropos and drags the assaulted frame a few feet away. Luckily, the valkyrie frame doesn’t resist, although she still remains utterly pissed, never taking her eyes off Atropos as she coughs and slowly regains her breath while crawling up to her feet.

In the meantime, Oberon’s team finally manages to reach the dockyard’s engine room, surprisingly close to the production lines themselves. This makes it far more likely for the blast radius to consume the machines along with everything else, an actually superfluous detail when the explosive they’ve chosen is powerful enough to ensure the entire building comes down to dust. Under any other set of circumstances, they would’ve used less potent bombs in more focused locations, but dire times where they’re figuratively getting kicked out by the looming threat of incoming reinforcements force the frames to use their heavier equipment against their own desires. What’s more curious, however, is the device’s carrier, Betelgeuse, leading the final advance at the front of the group, none of the other frames putting this into question. If anything, they show themselves with regained valor, likely not the product of a particular display of astounding leadership from him, as that would be a near impossibility from someone with a sense of self-value as dipped and shattered as his, but the sheer wish to motivate a relative newcomer to push forward by his own means while all they do is follow his lead whether he knows he’s technically in charge or not.

Taking a few steps forward, he pulls up the explosive, staring at it for a few short seconds to contemplate what his hands are holding, and what he’s about to do. It’s a simple explosive, it’s part of the job and that’s it, there shouldn’t be much more to it, but he finds far more meaning in the detonation. He’s always been a lover for explosives and explosions, it’s his passion, it’s his distinction, it’s something a Warframe normally wouldn’t be interested into to the point of giving it a similar level of importance to his, and as such, he’s always weirded out his sister whenever he had the chance to bring up or even execute this personal delight, despite their isolation from recent Tenno culture. However, this time is different, he has to admit to himself that something feels off, far too off-putting for him to put aside, as he stands there still, holding his arms forward, doing nothing but staring at the bomb’s timer that hasn’t been set up yet. Hell itself rests on his palms, waiting to be set loose and unleash a deadly inferno, and so many people will burn, countless Corpus lives… Likely innocent ones… They will burn away at his actions…

His hands start shaking, a display of hesitation that Oberon doesn’t let go unnoticed, especially now of all times, when they’re so close to the finish line and there shouldn’t be anything getting in the way of him placing the bomb and setting it off. Placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he steps forward and looks at the engine right in front of them, before looking down at the device that still hasn’t been placed.

“Betelgeuse?” He speaks in a low voice, almost murmuring “What are you waiting for?”

“Oberon, have you ever, like… Taken a step back and just… I don’t know, thought about the lives you’re taking away?”

This sudden moral question catches Oberon off-guard, not because he hasn’t ever wondered about this himself, but due to the awkward timing of it all. This kid must have some really serious self-doubts if his psyche can take him to such extents at a time like this, even to the point of not waiting any longer for a response:

“Because… What if…” Betelgeuse fights with himself to find the proper selection of words “What if what we’re doing isn’t right at all, and we’re just ending and ruining who knows how many lives in the process for a greater cause?”

Contrary to what the current situation would drive them to do, Oberon takes this calmly, and decides to analyze it with a bit of time and patience, obviously not a whole eternity, just enough for the response to be truly heartfelt and thorough as it should be. Meanwhile, Betelgeuse doesn’t hurry him, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the bomb, thinking about all the losses this single device could cause to how many people, a domino effect he had never bothered to take into consideration until the thought of being the grim reaper for the undeserving started haunting him day after day, unwilling to revive that doombringer he might’ve been eras past, or that he might still be deep down at the core of his soul and being, and he refuses to awaken that spirit any way he can. Oberon, on the other, isn’t just going to keep his arms crossed and not do something about it.

“I understand perfectly well why you’re so concerned about this, but just remember where we are and what we’re doing right now. This is war, and there’s nothing else to it, we don’t have enough time to think about who to kill and who to spare, whose families we might be tearing apart, or who deserves to live over the other when we’re caught in the midst of a battle.”

The lack of reassurance brings Betelgeuse’s head down to look at the floor beneath his feet, and seeing his carefully honeyed words aren’t doing their thing just yet, Oberon clears his throat to regain his full attention:

“You have a noble heart and a noble cause, kid, but don’t let that cloud your judgement and forget that you have a mission to complete. Act now, and sing your prayers later for all of those that might’ve fallen to your blade.”

Taking a final glance at compact destruction artifacted between his digits, Betelgeuse regains focus, spirits finally lifted up one way or another, still something holding him back as hard as he might attempt to ignore it.

“But why… Why do we…” He’s about to ask again, drawing Oberon’s gaze directly back to him and making him conclude abruptly not to stall any further “N-nothing.”

Upon falling quiet, he stamps the bomb against the engine, pressing the appropriate combination of buttons that activates the timer and leaves them with one minute to retreat, more than enough for them to exit without having to place a single extra gram of urgency when they’ve gotten this far and there’s nothing else standing in their way. They simply turn around, look at their surroundings, as quiet as they can be apart from the ear-deafening alarms sounding right outside, and follow the long, dimly lit hallway laid out ahead, its lights broken and those that still function are already flickering. With a solemn pace, Ivara even caring to add a slight skip to her steps, they make their way out, tick after tick the explosive echoes from the engine room, but both Excalibur and Betelgeuse share a sentiment of regret for their own separate reasons, and yet they still look back at the same spot, glaring at death itself put into atoms, set for a catastrophe they themselves have prepared, to stain their hands with more blood and cover their tracks with enough sin to face the deepest vaults of Erebus for the rest of eternity, one possessed by his most sinister self, and the other chased by the blazing memories of his distant tyranny.

“See you in hell, smited…” Betelgeuse utters, bringing his face forward and running out with the rest of the group as the bomb reaches its final seconds, witnessing the simultaneous departure and the arrival of Corpus ships to the scene while they make it past the now unguarded gates, the blast commencing as soon as one of them has officially set a foot outside the installation. They quicken their pace, despite the explosion never coming near them, and set atop a hill, to observe the rising cloud of smoke that bathes the debris after the deed is done. It’s unlikely that any workers could have survived, a fact that knocks the air out of Betelgeuse’s lungs and leaves him panting from a blow that was never physical to begin with, just to accept that he had to turn a blind eye, in order to be faithful to the nature of war.

And yet, they’re also swift to leave the scenery to its own devices, a mission accomplished and more to come, and no current time to waste mourning for the deaths of a hundred strangers. At the very least he had the valor to take the first step of many, if he wants to turn into something more than a troubled child.

Enough time has elapsed for Atropos to regain some of her composure, although the exposed truth seems to have ruined her facade, while Valkyr has neatly picked herself up and moved on, advancing way ahead of the rest while they stay and check on their surroundings to deviate their focus from what just took place a mere minute or two ago. Their pathfinder’s patience is running thin, though, calling them out from a distance:

“Are you guys coming or not? We don’t have all day!” She shouts, urging them to gather themselves and catch up, which they do, not without keeping in mind the deed she did and what they may expect from her in the future. With a leader like this, anything sure as hell is possible.

“Lotus almighty, I had almost forgotten how much of a bitch she is.” Valkyr tells herself in reference to her former victim, walking along the snow to hit their last Grineer target before switching gears and moving to Corpus territory. Both sides deserve equal amounts of love, or hatred, after all. Until, all of a sudden, she comes to an abrupt halt, giving her mates more than enough time to meet her again, to spot her petrified, followed by the deepest groan of exasperation she’s let out to date.

“Damnit, you have to be kidding me…” She complains to seemingly no one but herself, and as it’s obvious she isn’t going to give any answers, the rest just follow quietly while she advances ahead, thinking to herself.

“I guess you were right after all, Oberon.” She mutters, in spite of not speaking to him directly. It is clear that a fight scene is likely not a fitting subject to add to a poem, and now, much to her piling annoyance, she will need to find another subject, and start from scratch all over again.


	28. XXVII: Foreshadowing Foresight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General downtime for all parties allows for heaps of introspection to unveil the frames at their most vulnerable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, don't worry, I'm just as surprised that this came together so quickly. I'm not complaining, though.

Working thousands of miles apart takes a toll in anyone’s well-being long term when, in all their wisdom, they can’t help but be consumed by concern for the conditions of those they love the most. No matter how mighty or how engrossed by his duty Betelgeuse may be, he will always find a soft spot for her sister, still caught in her recovery, to the point of forming an essential part of his daily routine. As long as there’s nothing getting in the way between him and a line of communication leading back to Fortuna, he will make sure to make a call at least once everyday, and regardless of who answers, he’ll expect an according response.

Luckily, Banshee, as a show of surprising comradery towards a newcomer, has chosen to go out of her way and aid him by keeping an eye on Aldebaran every now and then, as long as it doesn’t interfere with her personal matters and any other tasks the Lotus may assign her, and today isn’t the exception. As soon as her interface starts ringing, she opens the call, giving a clear view of the interior of Aldebaran’s ship, and the cryopod where she can still be seen floating inside, dormant. It is blunt as a bullet to the face that her recovery has been slow, but nothing short of stellar, and the fact that her wounds are long gone, without even a small glimpse of a scar having left behind, is a great testament to the will to keep living that her soul holds even in her state of absolute unconsciousness. At this rate, it won’t be much longer before she gets out and decides to refresh her skills with a second taste of the battlefield, which brings a second matter of Betelgeuse’s own into his mind, interrupted by Banshee clearing her throat just as he was beginning to delve into his thoughts.

“So,” She begins to speak “you seem to be pretty captivated by something. May I ask what it is?”

“Uh,” Betelgeuse is all too used to being caught with his guard down by pretty much everyone he talks with, and unfortunately for him, this time is no different “Just… Things.”

“Well, you do seem a little more cheered up compared to yesterday, and I can see why.” She comments, looking back at the cryopod to notice the same improvement in Aldebaran’s condition that he did. He can’t deny that seeing his sister as ready to be back in action as she’ll ever be represents part of the reason he looks more motivated, given how things didn’t have as much of an optimistic overview previously, but at the same time, there’s more to it, or else he would’ve never even kept Oberon’s words in mind for as long as he did. He originally didn’t prepare for the prospect of her waking up that soon, especially considering the repercussions of meeting each other after all that time and her seeing him in his current state, and although no exact date for her exact return has been set yet, it definitely seems far more certain that he’s going to have to face her sooner than ever before.

“I mean, how would you feel after knowing someone very close to you is finally recovering from such grave wounds?” He brings up, to which she nods in agreement, and he feels eager to continue “For most of the life I remember as a Warframe, I worked with her, and only her, and we always made sure to take care of each other no matter the hardship or the situation we had ahead of ourselves.”

“Sounds like a partnership bound to constantly succeed.” Banshee says as an offhand compliment to lift the mood.

“In theory, yeah, and we did do some great things while we were still active and partnered up, until Corpus started getting tougher and tougher after each heist of ours. After a certain point, it just wasn’t worth it anymore, they were kicking us out before any of our efforts could be significant enough against them.”

“Why did you keep trying on your own, though? You could’ve gone to us and requested some assistance.”

“We’re not exactly in the best of terms with the Lotus, and I was never sure why, it’s something deep down in our instincts that says we’re ought not to trust her.”

“That sounds extremely irrational to me, though.” She remarks, to which he can only shrug for a lack of a better answer.

“Besides, that isn’t the only reason.” He continues “I never understood why, but even with such odds stacked against us, even after facing consecutive failures that would only keep piling up, she never turned her back to these corporate assholes, and she kept fighting with all her strength, regardless of how many times I told her it wouldn’t be worth bothering in the end. She always has something extra pushing her further ahead than anyone else I’ve ever met, and for that, I admire her and have more respect for her than the Lotus could ever hope to get from me.”

“I think that’s a little unfair with the Lotus, you’ve likely been with your sister your whole operational life while you’ve only been with us for a couple of months at most.”

“Maybe,” Betelgeuse concedes “but still, I’m pretty sure that ‘Baran has done much more for me than the Lotus could have possibly ever done for you and your peers.”

“That is, uh… Doubtful.” Banshee tries to respond, masquerading how taken aback she’s left by his comment “The Lotus has brought us together and turned us into a cohesive order, as well as being our eyes and ears all over the system at all times, we wouldn’t be what we are right now if it wasn’t for her.”

“What says that no one else would’ve stepped up and taken charge in her absence?” He questions.

“The fact that neither any of us nor anyone else outside the Tenno could ever have the same resources that she has?”

“And what’s stopping anyone from getting those same resources?”

This question in particular manages to make Banshee make a stop to think about it in more detail. The Lotus is known for always knowing everything that’s going on in the system, she has an eye on anything that takes place and an ear on anything that is said. Without her, the Tenno would likely need to keep people constantly on the field and compromise their secrecy by using communication channels to hope to get even close to the amount of information she’s able to collect all by herself. Sometimes it can be rather puzzling how she can get her hands on so much data she can use for their missions in so little time, a feat no regular person would be capable of accomplishing by their own means unless they were backed by a whole organization, and she doesn’t exactly request details from the Warframes all that often. There is no real explanation Banshee could come up with for that, though, and she assures herself that the others would agree with her, but it’s still interesting for her to think about at the very least.

However, Betelgeuse might have a point. It isn’t impossible to take her role if one makes sure to keep the right contacts, ally with the right factions, and get in touch with the right rivals, and it could even turn out to be lucrative in the long run. Of course, monetary gain has never been the main goal of the Lotus and her Tenno, although many sources may differ in their opinions about this, but the rest of the hypothesis still holds up pretty well. It’s disappointing, thus, to know that it seems the Lotus may not be that essential in the grander scheme of things, but rather her position, and now all Banshee can do is hope the theory behind the question Betelgeuse brought forward is completely flawed.

“Sorry, that was a dumb question from me.” Betelgeuse ends up apologizing after what might have been a half-minute of quiet wondering. It must’ve been very awkward for him to just stand there, waiting while she’d think about a proper response, and it’s just that much more embarrassing for her to have made him ask for forgiveness simply because she ignored the passing of time.

“No, don’t worry, it’s my fault, you don’t have to apologize for anything.” She hurriedly reassures him “I just had to take a moment to think about what you asked, I had never given such a high amount of thought to a question like that before.”

“Really? You’ve never taken a step back to consider the position of power of your higher-up?”

“We just kind of never needed to do so. It’s been so long, and the Lotus hasn’t done a single thing that would make us doubt her intentions, and she’s been so nice to us as well. She’s only brought good to the Origin system, why would she ever need a replacement?”

“Even if you say that, there’s something deep down that tells me the Lotus isn’t telling you the whole story, and unfortunately, I’ve never been able to identify what it is. ‘Baran shares the same sentiment, though.”

“How don’t you know why you don’t trust the Lotus if you’ve felt that way for so long?” Banshee asks with genuine confusion.

“I don’t know, it’s just… A feeling that’s always been there, and that’s the only way I can describe it.”

Despite all the intrigue that it causes, it’s obvious that no clear answer will come from Betelgeuse when even he doesn’t know where this caution of his comes from. It’s still worth keeping in mind, at the very least, in case any further developments in a matter as unlikely as the Lotus being a liar are unveiled, which is extremely improbable to ever happen.

“And how’s things been going for you guys over there?” She asks in an effort to change the subject.

“For us? Not so bad. We’ve somehow been able to make significant progress in our first few days, locating a map of the area and even destroying the first dockyard without much getting in the way.”

“And you? How have you been doing with a new squad that doesn’t have your sister in it?”

Contrary to the surprising degree of assertivity that Betelgeuse has expressed up to this point, this question leaves him paralyzed right on the spot, caught with his guard down and no response that could benefit both parties, namely him. Instead of looking at Banshee, his gaze is averted by the sight of his sister’s cryopod once again, proud and mighty even in her slumber. She would deserve an answer from him far more than anybody else, and yet there she is, most likely unable to hear him say a word inside all that fluid, soon to wake up and once again prove herself far more worthy of significant praise.

“Betelgeuse?”

Banshee pulls him back into reality. It must be getting really tiresome for everyone else to see him doze off so frequently, making his cowardice that much more evident by seeking refuge in the dwellings of his mind. Having an objective makes it at the very least worthwhile, taking one final glance at Aldebaran before deciding it’s better not to leave his conversation partner waiting any longer:

“I’m going to give them something worth paying attention to.”

“What are you talking about?” Banshee asks him with her head tilted to the side.

“I… Have been nothing short of a disappointment, Banshee.” He finally admits, letting the discomfort be evident not only through the shakiness and stutter of his voice, but through his body language as well, rubbing his arms and hesitating to keep his gaze up and fixed to the screen “That will change very soon, I promise.”

“Who are you making that promise to?”

“I think we both know it quite well.” He declares, to which she stares at him followed by a nod of agreement. With nothing else to add, they both exchange their nonchalant farewells with each other and close the call, leaving Betelgeuse back on the snowy landscape of northern Venus, and Banshee inside Aldebaran’s ship. She looks back at the dormant sister, peaceful as she could ever be when she’s no longer clinging to her life, and the mess she’ll be met by as soon as she’s ready to step out.

“What a brother you got for yourself.” Banshee tells her, regardless of her unconscious state, stepping closer to the cryopod and checking on her condition from a much closer distance “I just hope he comes back safe, he’s a really great guy and it would be a shame to lose someone like him.”

Upon listening to herself once again in her thoughts, she sighs and shares a laugh with the sleeping frame, thinking about the things that have brought both of them to this point.

“I totally sound like I’m fangirling over him, don’t I?” She questions herself “I should try to help him in person at least once, and maybe then it won’t sound like I’m pulling compliments out of my ass.”

She’s lucky the cargo bay opens as soon as she says this, and not before. Umbra comes in without even asking for permission, a bad habit he’s never bothered to keep an eye on, and acts surprised when he sees that she’s still inside the ship.

“You’re still here? I thought you would’ve left by now.” He says in an almost chastising manner.

“You know, any regular person with  _ manners _ would ask if someone’s inside before barging in, what stops you from doing just that?” She complains to him, matching him in posture but definitely not in height.

“This isn’t exactly your home, although the sheer amount of time you’ve been spending here is starting to paint a different picture, so I don’t see why there would be an issue with me disturbing the peace of someone that’s completely asleep with little signs of waking up. Besides, it’s not like I’m interrupting anything intimate.”

“Well, obviously not, but it’s a sign of courtesy I would expect to see from you at least.” She concludes, forfeiting her point in favor of switching to something more worthwhile. It doesn’t come immediately, though, as Umbra rather chooses to get closer to Aldebaran’s cryopod and just stand there, observant for her status and her stellar recovery.

“Did something catch your eye?” She asks him, breaking him out of his contemplation.

“They’re both quite promising, aren’t they?”

“Well, yeah, they are, even with their issues and all. I don’t see what this has to do with you being here, though.”

“I think you can infer that on your own, we’ve talked about this before.”

“... That?” She asks, losing a bit of the pride she held in her composure.

“I don’t see what’s stopping you from saying it already.”

“Aside from the fact that I hate just having to think about it.”

“So you hate the truth?”

“Don’t come around calling it the truth now!” She suddenly snaps at him, losing any and all temper she had in a single instant “You only have a few people sharing your same opinion, and I’m sure it wouldn’t take too much effort to snap them out of their delusion!”

“So Oberon is delusional?” He asks her, questioning the reasoning behind her anger with remarkable incisiveness. and shutting down her argument before it even begins. Once her ire disappears, even if it’s replaced by creeping-up sorrow, he continues “I didn’t tell you what I know for the sake of bad-mouthing your Lotus, I gain nothing from doing that. My only objective is to spread the warning and make you alert in case the Natah you refuse to believe exists as part of her chooses to awaken and feels in the right mood to kill us all.”  
  
“And what if you’re wrong?” She expresses her doubt amidst her somber.

“Then I’ll be just as joyful as everybody else to know we have her on our side, but until then, I’ll remain rightfully cautious about her intentions.”

“And in the meantime, you’ll keep misguiding anyone that crosses your path and you deem worthy of sharing your skepticism?”

“Tell me, then, am I forcing them to stop working for her?” He asks bluntly, gaining control of the exchange once again as Banshee doesn’t find a feasible reply and loses more of her confidence. Without much else to add, she looks away whilst Umbra further adds:

“I’ll be glad to add them into our ranks, for the sake of having more support than you’re giving me, and maybe by the time he’s back you’ll be more willing to listen to what I have to say.”

“You just refuse to listen to yourself!” She shouts at the top of her lungs, refusing to give up “if you were in my shoes, how would you feel if I told you the same thing?!”   
  


“And how would you feel if you had to live with what I know and not be able to tell anybody for so long? Wouldn’t you be afraid of becoming an outcast, or not being able to warn them in time if it all ends up coming true, or just not being welcome amongst your own peers, those that share the same curse as you and you may find comfort with?” His tone reaches the peak of its sharpness, able to pierce through the fiercest of hearts were it deemed direly needed, and it’s most certainly necessary this time around, accomplishing the goal of moving Banshee to some degree. It may no longer be a matter of empathy, yet getting his point across is enough as he pays attention back to a slumbering Aldebaran, a future recruit to a cause whose intentions he’s declared as most noble, without ignoring the potential her sister has shown up to this point.

“At least tell me if they’ll be safe under your command.” Banshee timidly requests, regaining his gaze for one final time to receive a simple nod and nothing else.

“You look especially concerned for them, for whatever reason.”   
  


“They’ve just arrived and they’re already involved with so many things at the same time, I can’t help but feel a little worried about them.”

“Just remember you’re not their mother, not even Ivara pampers them so much.” He comments before exiting the ship, without saying any type of goodbye to her.

“I’m not trying to be their mother, I just… I don’t know, they can be so reckless sometimes.” She mutters to herself, staring down to her feet to lose herself in quiet contemplation. Hoping Betelgeuse has a safe journey and return is all she can do, regretting not being part of the expedition at this very moment, but maybe that’s for the better, she might end up being far more useful keeping a careful eye on Betelgeuse after all, sitting on the sidelines with many other Warframes while the main eight that were specifically chosen by the Lotus steal all the glory and single-handedly dismantle the most immediate threats to Venus’ safety. She isn’t exactly envious of their position, however, just disappointed.

Betelgeuse isn’t the only brother worried about their sibling. Alad V’s finest creation, Pegasus, wanders around incessantly, assigned to one of these huge installations that Corpus has placed all over the venusian north pole. “Dockyards”, they are called, and apparently they’re using them for a massive project involving the creation of one of the greatest constructions the Origin system will have ever seen, a bold claim considering the countless feats the ancient Orokin must have accomplished back in the day.

However, that doesn’t matter to him even a single bit. A gargantuan dreadnought may intimidate hundreds of armies by parting the skies with thunderous solemnity, cementing the sovereignty of Profit and all its subordinates over the horizons of all the planets in the Origin system and the many more that may be left to discover out in the universe, but unless the crew volunteers personally, it’s not going to bring back Deinos anytime soon. He hasn’t known much about Alad either since he was dropped off here in these facilities, just that he hasn’t had it easy repaying the astoundingly steep debt that Deinos and Pegasus’ failure had put on him. Despite all the promises he made to them that it would all be fine and things would be sorted out in no time, the prospect of paying for the lives and the credits that have been lost to the war thanks to Tyl Regor still having a head over his shoulders isn’t exactly one anyone can brush aside, not even the great genius that is Alad.

Maybe it is deserved, yet placed on the wrong person. Pegasus’ stupidity couldn’t be pinned on Alad as “irresponsibility” and then be called just and fair with a straight face, only a corporate, unscrupulous bastard would let such an act of injustice even come to fruition…

“Huh.” Pegasus mutters, loudly enough to catch the attention of a couple passerbys. At least looking at them funny is enough to scare them away, leaving him alone once again, leaning against the wall in a lonely hallway.

Anyway. It can’t be said with a rational mind that Deinos’ injuries were Alad’s fault, when it was Pegasus that was present with the weapons in his hands that he could’ve used to keep her far safer from any danger. Even if it’s argued that the participation of that cursed Grineer “child” was an unforeseen disaster, he still has to take accountability for finding enough mercy to spare that thing’s life, but not enough foresight to know how as little of a factor as her could spiral out of his control and harm those that he had sworn to protect with his life, his sister included.

Now, to further mockery, he’s been taken away from both of them, and disallowed to forfeit his position to go in search of his missing sister. No matter how much it may be argued to him that Corpus is stretched thin and they need all the manpower they can get in all garrisons, he’ll never be able to accept it as a reasonable excuse to keep him shackled to this factory where nothing at all is happening in comparison to the frontlines, and it’s in no way going to bring him any closer to finding Deinos’ location.

“Board of Directors… What a  _ lovely _ bunch of people indeed.” He says to no one but himself, sighing with exasperation to the ceiling and taking a glance at his weapons that, despite having been repaired, haven’t seen a second of action in the field since he’s been brought here. This isn’t a routine meant for a Warframe, Helminth might like his own deserves, if not outright requires to be set loose to do their master’s bidding, not be treated like a caged beast. All he can hope for now, is that Deinos hasn’t been put to the same fate as him, it’s the only thing that he’s cared for ever since he set foot in a Corpus dockyard.

Luckily for him, his wish has been granted, if only partially. It’s as clear as the sky on a sunny day on Earth that Deinos can’t exactly do whatever she wants, but surprisingly, her captors have shown more hospitality than it would’ve initially been expected from them. They’ve even bothered to make a stop in a set of snowy plains in the middle of the hills, a surprisingly effective hiding spot at the rim of Grineer territory. Checking on the next route they’re going to take is always a priority when just wandering around with the objective of mashing overgrown potatoes isn’t going to cut it, not when they’ve seen proof that Tyl Regor is the one orchestrating this entire invasion, and getting on his bad side always warrants harsh consequences.

“Who would’ve thought we’re dealing with the potato overlord himself here?” Limbo comments to lift up the team’s spirits, but to no avail. The sourness of their contempt has grown to permeate their utmost basic interactions, separating them more than they’ve ever been united as a squad, now scattered all over the field to their own devices. While Atropos sits alone, staring into the ever-expansive horizon, Valkyr already looks pretty occupied in a conversation with their prisoner, Deinos, and Wisp seems to be looking away from pretty much everyone, only shyly looking at him a few times when he doesn’t notice.

Without anything to lose, he chooses to approach the fateful frame, lost in the sight of the clouds overhead, tapping her on the shoulder to earn her gaze and, shockingly enough, a reception that isn’t abrasive for once. It can be argued that apathy isn’t much of an improvement from outright rejection, but at the end of the day, progress is progress, and at least he can feel more confident sitting down and speaking to her without risking her deeming him useless and ignoring him for the rest of the day.

“So,” he tries to begin the exchange after clearing his throat “it turns out you have a few old squadmates from who knows how long ago, and it looks like you miss them a lot.”

“Why do you care?” She harshly questions “Your friend already brought it up, you might as well ask her instead.”

“She’s already occupied with her pet over there,” He points at Deinos, who seems enthralled by whatever Valkyr might be telling her at the moment “and I thought you could use a friendlier outlet for all of your frustrations. Valkyr isn’t exactly the most patient out of all of us here, if you couldn’t tell already.”

“None of you are any different.” She bitterly admits “I bet you’re nothing but a self-serving prick under that image you’ve painted for yourself, and your colleagues will judge me with their eyes before looking at themselves and wondering if they’re any better.”

“I would personally not criticize them as harshly. You’re a relative newcomer to our faction, and we’re still not one hundred percent sure about your reasons not to trust us.”

“Aside from trying to get into my head that I’m obligated to follow your beloved Lotus unconditionally, or I’ll be labeled as a traitor or untrustworthy otherwise.”

“Didn’t they feel suspicious about you from the get-go, though? From the moment you stepped out of your pod, you made it clear that you thought of us as nothing more than ‘puppets’, which makes them think you know far more than you’re telling us, and you’re already quite vocal about your opinions.”

“And you people aren’t making it any better, refusing to even consider approaching me in a way that wouldn’t be judgemental, or to question my loyalty to your bloody space mother.”

“You always seem to be doing just fine, that is whenever you’re not in a mood to scare someone off by the sheer aura you emanate. You also tend not to want to talk, period, you just have a general tendency to appear suspicious all throughout.”

“Well, I just…” And probably for the first time ever, Atropos doesn’t know how to respond. She looks just as shocked, before staying quiet, her soft breath being the only thing breaking the perpetual silence.

“Furthermore, we know nothing about this team that you might’ve used to be part of, and we’re also not sure about your intentions regarding that information.”

“You don’t even know if it’s true…” She comments in a low voice, catching a gentler gaze from him. Finding her in such a much quieter, approachable state piques his intrigue, tilting his head upon the sight of an Atropos with dwindling spirits.

“Well, you didn’t exactly deny it when Valkyr confronted you, but I’m not going to hold it against you either, she can be pretty overwhelming to deal with most of the time.”

Even with this admission, she doesn’t seem comfortable in the slightest, looking away most of the time while holding her legs against her chest. An environment as (un)friendly as Venus doesn’t necessarily allow for decent scenery to speak of, bringing the possible filler to break the ice down to an all-time low. Fitting, considering how most of Venus’ surface is frozen.

“There is nothing about me that should matter to you.” Atropos comments, looking back at clouds travelling through the firmament above. Her constant fidgeting grows ever more anxious with each second that passes, even unconsciously trying to put some extra inches of distance between herself and the Rift wanderer that has selfishly chosen to disturb her thin, flimsy peace.

“That’s what you may think at first, but you never know if I’m simply curious and I could end up genuinely interested by whatever secrets you might be holding.”

“They are secrets for a reason.” Her reluctance peaks, refusing to utter a single word after having said this. As such, it’s time for him to take the full initiative, now that she isn’t going to respond conventionally anymore.

“If you plan to keep them secret forever, how do you expect to be welcome amongst your peers, or receive any aid you may need in a dire predicament?”

This question alone seems to break through all her stubbornness, hooking her gaze to him and wondering what in Fate’s sacred name he could possibly be talking about.

“Hate us all you want, but I don’t think hostility towards your brethren-in-arms will make your job any easier. You are more than competent with your craft. we can’t deny that, we’ve seen you in action and fought alongside you. However, that’s never going to fully make up for how you’ve behaved, and if you truly want to be helped or accepted, you should maybe take a step back and take a look at yourself.”

To this, Atropos knows no response. Staying silent isn’t the most polite or respectful thing to do, especially towards someone that hasn’t shown a single gram of rudeness to her the whole day, but admitting guilt for being an individual that would be worth loathing under her own definitions isn’t an easy task.

“Damn, I totally sounded like Ivara there, didn’t I? It always gives me a headache, to have to speak so much.” Limbo says in a vain attempt to brighten up the soured mood. However, no matter how deep Atropos buries her head between her knees, there is no escape from looming judgement that has been placed down upon her in such a cruelly gentle way, not when he shows no signs of going away without a satisfying answer. She could’ve never expected to be put in a situation where she faces being “killed with kindness”, yet here she is, with all her glory shattered to be replaced by a set of hard-hitting questions that seem to her like more of a forced breakthrough than anything else, grasping for a reason to care about her personal matters that doesn’t even exist in the first place.

But at the end of the day, she’s got to give something back, at least a simple glance to acknowledge her understanding. Raising her gaze from the obscurity between her legs after what feels like ages, she dares to look at him directly to the face, both of them wondering what could be going on with each other’s expressions under the helmets. For Limbo, this is all the confirmation he needs that his words had some effect on her, a greater sign of progress than anything anybody else could claim to have achieved when it comes to speaking with the fateful frame, and he definitely intends this not to be the last time.

“Just be aware that you have a friendly outlet in me, if you feel like you can really trust nobody else.” He declares to conclude, getting up to his feet in preparation to go back to his regular business. Instead of withdrawing immediately, though, he stays there, standing next to her sitting figure as she remains observant of the approaching sunset. Normally, this would prompt her to look up to him with a mix of confusion and annoyance, begging to be left alone and not to drag on the painful company for any longer. It is curious to see, then, that such a development doesn’t even come close to fruition in this case.

Somehow, Limbo is completely free to remain there for what really feels like it’s as long as he wants. He expected to get shooed away as soon as she saw that he didn’t move on right from the moment he got back up to his feet,but that isn’t what happens. She just looks at him, nonchalant and almost mindless of his lingering presence, and doesn’t say a single word to get him away. Limbo nods to himself, and giving her a final glance to see that, as somber as she may be, she isn’t as hopeless as the rest of the team makes her out to be, he retreats from a finished conversation with a newfound sense of optimism, hoping that it lasts with his future efforts.

And Wisp stands in the distance, opposite to their field of view, watching it all with an attentive eye and a million questions

As he passes by close to Valkyr and Deinos, still engrossed by their mutual exchange that seems more one-sided than anything, he gets to eavesdrop a small earful of their conversation, as Valkyr asks:

“So you don’t course energy through the Helminth in your blood like we do?”

Deinos then proceeds to shake her head to answer her question, a curious abnormality indeed, but not something that would particularly pique Limbo’s interest. After all, it was obvious at a first glance and with the visual evidence they’ve obtained throughout their journey that Deinos isn’t exactly a Warframe that fits the definition in its totality, and it couldn’t be expected from Corpus to just be able to perfectly imitate the Orokin methodology from out of nowhere.

Valkyr and Deinos continue talking with each other just fine, even after he leaves. He couldn’t be any more inconsequential to them at the very moment, as they don’t even acknowledge his existence when he shows up only to leave just as quickly. It’s hard enough as it is to keep the makeshift frame’s attention in one single place without her getting distracted by anything that looks even remotely enticing for her to run her claws through, that is if she doesn’t grow uneasy and eager to jump anything on sight that isn’t the valkyrie frame herself. There’s a bit of upside, however, as she seems to enter a weird state of thrall whenever her vision is redirected to Valkyr herself, making it relatively easy to keep her on a figurative leash as long as her attention is always directed away from everything else that surrounds her. It is a good thing that their current talk couldn’t be any more fascinating.

“So that’s why you have to eat all those corpses, and also why you even have that massive maw to begin with.”

Deinos nods in confirmation “Father said… My veins burn… I’m weaker without fuel…”

That’s definitely something Valkyr wouldn’t have expected to see and hear in a thousand years or even more. The sole thought of a Warframe whose Helminth doesn’t admit regular energy in any sort of way, if it could even be considered a Warframe at all anymore, confuses Valkyr to a degree she’s never experienced prior to this. It also serves greatly to cement even further her vision of Deinos as not a real Warframe that the Lotus could welcome in their ranks, but as a fiendish beast with no self-restraint or a real sense of what’s right and what's wrong. She can’t even speak properly without the heaviest slur Valkyr has ever heard, likely due to a lack of knowledge in language in general or her brain simply being incapable of properly processing the meaning of the words she speaks at an effective pace. 

It’s extremely surprising to see someone like Alad V has allowed this creature to exist and roam freely despite her numerous flaws, instead of scrapping her once her incompetence to become the one thing she’s supposed to be was clearer than the oceans of Neptune. Maybe he’s just lazy, or desperate for his superiors’ approval, or it’s barely like the Zanuka that now carries the valkyrie’s armor and has left her hidden left exposed to the worlds, something he can’t come to get rid of in spite of her lack of usefulness in the grand scheme of things due to reasons that were never beyond him but he refuses to face head-on with dashing bravery, reveling in the trademark cowardice that is expected from anyone in Corpus’ upper hierarchy. That does raise one key question, however…   
  


“So what is up with your  _ ‘father’  _ nowadays?” Valkyr asks, cringing heavily upon merely having to refer to him as a parental figure “Is he still doing his thing, working on all his experiments and his crazy inventions at the expense of Lotus knows how many lives?”

She regrets having said this almost right away, wondering what the everloving hell went through her mind to make her think it was a good idea to erase her own filter and ask something that would so blatantly against Deinos’ own set of ideals, likely drilled into her inept mind due to her lack of visible willpower. Valkyr recoils slightly and, for a short instant, prepares herself for any kind of retaliation for her imprudence, yet there is none. Deinos just stares at her with a tilted head, probably curious as to why she’s making such a fool out of herself by raising her guard out of the blue, but she doesn’t say a thing either. If anything, her silence and specific reaction to Valkyr’s behavior points towards the likelihood of her being far more clueless than expected, leaving Valkyr wondering what she could possibly ask or do with her next if she’s going to be this useless thanks to a lack of knowledge.

“You don’t… Know anything about his job, do you?” She reluctantly asks the makeshift frame, her fears confirmed by her shaking her head.

“Father… Is a scientist?” Deinos quietly questions in return.

“To say he’s a scientist would be far too gentle, but yeah, he tends to do most of the things he does in the name of ‘scientific discovery’, as questionable as they may be most of the time.”

“Question…able…” Deinos repeats the word, as if to try and assimilate its meaning.

“He isn’t exactly innocent, to say the least. I would like to go into detail about some of the atrocious acts that he has committed, but…”

A light bulb shines atop her head as an idea comes to her. Berating Deinos for her lack of knowledge about Alad’s misdoings and trying to show her a new perspective on things won’t suffice as long as her naivete is able to prevail, and her limited speech isn’t going to make things any easier in that regard. Valkyr’s best bet is to device a plan, one that will require a new deal of patience from her, and hopefully by the end, she will have done something that would’ve been worth all that time, effort, probably even sanity, and receive a warm congratulation from the Lotus herself once she’s back in the Vesper relay along with everyone else after they all make their return from Fortuna.

“I don’t think here and now is the time and place for that, not while we haven’t dealt with issues of your own.” She finally says after leaving Deinos hanging for a few seconds while she was considering her next course of action. The makeshift frame reacts by keeping her gaze focused on her, not saying a word or even a complaint expressed verbally or physically, allowing Valkyr to continue with zero impediments or obstacles.

“Let’s begin by working on your speech, you can be pretty hard to talk with sometimes.” Valkyr comments, clasping her hands together “Tomorrow, we’ll be off to fight some more Grineer, and maybe you’ll be able to learn to communicate faster and more effectively in the process.”

Although Deinos doesn’t nod or even say anything in response, Valkyr takes her silence as all the confirmation she needs. The Lotus should definitely be more than glad to have left her in charge after her plan reaches its final stages and eventually concludes in a roaring success, one that will do nothing but bring further glory to the Tenno by seizing this monster of a Warframe and turning it into something that will bring benefits to likely the entire Origin system.

And under her helmet, Valkyr finds herself grinning for the first time in what feels like ages.


	29. XXVIII: Bloodstained Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberon and his team storm their second dockyard to be greeted with a couple of lessons bathed in blood and fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came out pretty quickly despite its length. This is going far too well, something's gonna happen soon that will fuck everything up, I just feel it ~w~

Sitting at the top of a mighty cliff in Venus’ brutally cold north pole, the Warframes’ second dockyard to bring down appears to have shut all of its operations and closed its vaults for the rest of the day, a reasonable concession due to the terrible blizzard hailing down on the area. The frames are buried in the raising snow up to their knees, turning a simple advance into a torturous process of pulling themselves out of the pale white barrier impeding their movement to gain a few more feet of ground, only to sink back into the exact same thick layer of snow they had dug themselves out of, and then repeat this cycle over and over. Under these conditions, a walk that would at most take them about ten minutes somehow drags on until they’ve taken a full half-hour to simply come close to the sealed gates of the location.

It could have definitely been worse. Oberon’s team hasn’t exactly been at their peak in this whole operation, distracted and unfocused thanks to their various matters and issues that they haven’t had all that much time to tackle in the midst of all the haste. The elk (or bull, depending on who you ask) even has some of his own, looking back to his teammates with a feeling of concern he hadn’t felt since that strange, monstrous creature snuck into Fortuna and made a whole mess while leaving Betelgeuse’s sister at the brink of death. Having to watch so many of his comrades rush out of their ships and their conversations without him being able to do anything about it, he’s always been supposed to be a leading figure, and nothing should distract him from his duties if even just a few moments of him being occupied with other matters has shown the whole place will threaten to fall into chaos.

The well-being of those under his command has always been his top priority, and to know that Excalibur hasn’t been too senseful with his actions in the last few days doesn’t exactly bring any comfort to an Oberon that was hoping to keep a cohesive group throughout the entire journey. Not even the talk he had with him during their downtime did them any good, it was mostly Excalibur sat down cross-legged on the snow, staring at his hands throughout the whole ordeal while Oberon would endlessly bombard him with questions that would only amount to responses in the realms of “I don’t know” and “I don’t remember”. It was an agonizing experience from top to bottom, where the best and most senseful response he could get out of the frame was that maybe he got far too carried away and lost track of the mission itself, and then he would blatantly refuse to say anything else for the rest of the day. He hasn’t spoken much to him since, aside from issuing the same orders he’s given to pretty much everyone else in the team, and despite all his worries, maybe that’s for the better while they still have a job to do.

Fortunately, there’s an upside for their current situation. As much of a hypocrite as it may make him look, Oberon has chosen not to stay up ahead from the group this time around, staying as just one more member while the troubled kid, Betelgeuse, leads the charge without even noticing. They didn’t ask each other about this development, it kind of just happened naturally, yet it would be a shame to let go to waste such an opportunity to see what he has to offer in a more upfront position, now that it looks like a fire has been ignited in his soul, to find a new younger brother with regained motivation and ready to take on what Venus has to offer.

And it is quite the understatement to say he’s motivated. His advance straight ahead refuses to meet any blockades, even when his helmet is coated up to every single nook and cranny with thick, freezing snow that threatens to obscure his vision and blind him from his gigantic target sitting right in front of him and the rest of his team. The concept of environmental hazard is far beyond him at this point, now that he finally sets foot on a higher, more solid piece of terrain that pushes his knees up from the risk of freezing.

“He seems quite determined, did you tell him something that fired him up that much?” Ivara asks Oberon, covering her face with one hand to stop the hail from covering her already limited field of view.   
  


“Even if I did, I didn’t think it would show results this soon.” He admits with genuine surprise, watching the dusk frame make a small stop to look at his surroundings, not even acknowledging the elements challenging his prowess. In times like these, stealth makes a quiet entrance to beg for usage when the scenario is almost pleading for its introduction, when the frames haven’t really made much use of it beyond a general sense of staying under the radar whilst traversing the greater Corpus territories in between their structures.

With a modified Vectis in hand, he jumps in, climbing over an unguarded wall while the complex as a whole has been confined to its interiors until the worst of the storm is over, and the rest follow without saying a word. Complaining about the development of their current affair would be unwise when it could easily jinx them now that they’ve made it this far without any major inconveniences other than Venus’ lovely weather, which at this point has become more of a part of their daily routine than anything. Even then, it is admittedly eerie to watch first-hand the desolation of a field, a working plaza that once must have hosted hundreds of workers moving all over the place with the goal to deliver the finest work they could possibly manage in all their humanity and their limitations, but now holds the same vibe as an abandoned Orokin vault that is likely to hold nothing to discover.

And akin to an Orokin vault, it even has its own automated hazards to assault them just when they were starting to feel comfortable. Filling in the void that an absence of Corpus guards would leave, dozens of Moa walkers have been left on the outside to roam around freely and be the eyes and ears for their masters that are trapped in their corporate boxes until Venus feels merciful enough to lift her deadly curtains. Unfortunately, this also means the senses that would normally betray a regular human being are no longer there, giving these machines a reaction time of a mere fraction of a second that could only make the Warframes’ infiltration task that much tougher.

They are obviously more than eager to face a challenge of this caliber. Although running and gunning might be considered a far more entertaining endeavor by most folks, being able to fulfill their role as Warframes comes as a nearly primal need, and doing do at least every now and then will always be a welcome change of pace.

Thus, the first one to touch ground at the other side of the wall is Betelgeuse, using the snow to cushion his landing and muffle the sound of the impact, while the rest follow in kind with just as much subtlety. Remaining as close to the wall as possible proves to be a quite resourceful maneuver, masking themselves under the thick shadow of the battlement that obscures their figures under the darkness, Unless they do something remarkably wrong, like stepping on a landmine or pulling an unlikely booby trap, it should be as easy as ever to get past even these mechs walking around the area without sounding a single alarm.

That is until they think one of the larger Moas in that place gives them a long, cold stare despite their best efforts to stay undetectable. Fingers crossed behind their backs, all the frames can do is hope that cheap piece of metal hasn’t really spotted them yet, as everything around them seems to freeze in time, the whole squad holding their breaths almost in simultaneous tension.

The thrill of the moment reaches boiling point, as the damn robot refuses to look elsewhere and let them keep on their way to not lose any further time. Their hands, formerly congealed in the panicked reaction they all had at once, now slowly reach over to their arsenal, getting a careful hold of their holstered weapons as time keeps passing and the Moa’s vision remains glued in their direction. A split-second decision could be required at any moment if that thing simply refuses to move on, now attracting other mechs to form a small crowd to a single dark spot on the wall while the frames still have to stand the nauseating, everlasting torture of not being certain about whether they’ve been found, making their breathing sharpen and their stomachs churn.

A whole minute passes, and the crowd of robots only increases to a sizable fifteen to twenty walkers of different models and sizes, even a couple of drones flying overhead to provide assistance in case of an emergency. This behavior is completely off-brand for these machines, which are usually programmed to be far more basic and manageable in their guarding duties, far easier to exploit by hostile forces that decide to infiltrate and take advantage of their artificial ineptitude. Corpus wouldn't normally take these many precautions regardless of the circumstances, it could be said this is a first for them, making no reservations when it comes to the defenses of their factories that are working full-time on their magnum opus, a bit strange considering the frames didn’t spot any of these upgrades in their first raid.

Oberon draws a judgemental glance towards Excalibur due to this matter, and maybe it is just in time to avoid a tragedy. The almighty frame named after the sacred sword stands there, more cautious than the rest of the squad combined, looking like a deer startled by a light in the middle of the night. More alarmingly, however, is the Exalted Blade tightly held in the grasp of his closed hand, waiting for energy to course through its edge and finally become the weapon of mass destruction it’s always been. The glow of the blade alone would give away their location, tossing away all their effort to stay undercover in an instant, and given how he’s assuming a progressively more aggressive stance with each futile second that passes, it looks like his self-restraint is long gone and he only cares about the here and now. The Moas don’t move an inch, and neither does he, while the rest of the team can only stay behind and watch lest they alert the whole garrison and have hundreds of Corpus on their asses in a matter of minutes, ruining the entire purpose of their intrusion. 

It’s a silent war, a quiet conflict that could match the might of a bout for supremacy between two nations without the need to fire a single bullet. The air filling the empty space between them could nearly stop in time, matterless to both sides whose most basic instincts are the only realm of action comprehensible to them, where reason and rationale stands as nothing but a bothersome barrier getting in the way of survival, it’s only a matter of who makes the first move…

And just when they thought they were done for, the leading Moa turns on its mechanical feet and paces away, followed by its small legion of synthetic beasts until they separate and make their individual rounds away from each other. Even then, it takes a while for the fear to fully wash off the frames’ minds, stepping back just a few feet to regroup and gather themselves after the standoff of their lives.

“Why are you holding my wrist?” Excalibur whispers, looking at Oberon with concern while feeling his hand firmly restrained from any movement.

“Why don’t you tell me yourself?” Oberon questions back, redirecting his gaze back to the Exalted Blade that thankfully saw no usage instants ago, and lets go as soon as the first glimpses of remorse start to show up on the troubled frame. Both of them return to the formation when all looming danger finally seems to have retreated, and the quiet advance is resumed, Betelgeuse still firmly and inadvertently in the lead.

Their main objective stands there, sealed off on all ends to withstand the storm, seemingly impenetrable. A predicament like this is still yet to stop them, though, Corpus isn’t infallible enough to blockade all openings in all shapes and sizes. Even with their precautions, it’s a safe assumption to think their smaller entrances and passages are still as accessible as ever, it’s only a matter of finding them on the ceiling.

Looking to both sides in order to make sure everything’s clear, Betelgeuse gets to his feet and makes a run for it, placing a foot on the factory wall, followed by the other, and then proceeds to climb up at top speed. The sound of his footsteps remains quiet enough to remain undetectable, as he makes it to the top, looking around for any available options to enter the building itself unscathed and unseen. There doesn’t seem to be anything on sight at a first glance, a pretty barren rooftop that defies Corpus standards for blandness and simplicity, and it looks like there might be no choice but to knock on the main door and ask politely for entrance.

However, not all hope is lost. There happens to be a small passageway, an air duct, discreetly placed in the corner, leading directly downwards. The duct itself looks very narrow, barely able to fit one of them at a time if they bend their limbs the proper way, but dire times demand any kind of solution regardless of its quality, and perhaps they’ll be able to brag about their flexibility if they can cram themselves in without any trouble.

The rest of the squad stand up and straighten themselves upon seeing Betelgeuse at the edge of the roof, signaling them to follow him in. A short sprint and climb later, and the four of them are finally reunited to face their new predicament: The duct’s size.

“So,” Oberon speaks up “who volunteers to go first?”

None of them seem particularly thrilled about the prospect of jamming themselves inside a hole so reduced in size and hope they can make it through, especially given all the extra stuff they’re already carrying around.

“Excalibur?” Oberon turns around and asks the frame standing behind him, who promptly shakes his head in rejection of the offer.

“Betelgeuse?” He looks at the man leading the charge, who rather shrugs in neither denial nor acceptance.

“I think we’re a little too large.” He replies “We might need someone smaller to get through there, and open the main door from the inside.”

The three frames keep looking at each other, trying to come to a concession. They’re all comparatively similar when it comes to width and height, so if one of them doesn’t fit, it will be clear that the rest could not follow. There’s still one possibility they haven’t studied yet, however…

“Why… Why are you three looking at me like that?” Ivara puts their intentions into question, taking a few cautionary steps back.

Well, if she didn’t say no, then…

Now the three frames wait patiently at the roof, counting the clouds they can make out amidst the hailstorm to pass the time. Their short-lived peace is interrupted by a disturbance in their communication channels, clearly none other than-

“Yeah, you three are so hilarious sitting there while I do all the work because I happen to fit in this tiny little hole!” Ivara complains as loudly as possible.

“Sounds more like a you-problem to me.” Excalibur responds without skipping a beat, prompting a sigh from her through the call.

“Don’t talk so loud, you’re going to give yourself away.” Oberon points out in a more serious note, proving sufficient to keep her quiet while she keeps making her way through such a dark, cramped space. They can still hear her digits making contact with the metal walls of the ventilation system, bringing into question how she’s even able to move around in there.

“Are you having fun?” Excalibur asks teasingly.

“Like you have no idea, why don’t you come join me in here?” She replies with cutting-edge sarcasm, still advancing as fast as she can manage through a corridor as tight as what she’s traversing. Eventually, they get to hear a loud clanking noise, immediately followed by something metallic hitting the ground.

“Is everything alright?” Oberon asks, looking down through the darkness of the ventilation system.

“I looked, and everything was clear, so I kicked the lid off this thing.” She answers nonchalantly, landing cleanly on her feet right after to be met by an empty hallway. That isn’t the case for too long, though, as a few passing guards force her to hide behind a corner. The fact that the main entrance is nowhere to be seen only makes the task that much more cumbersome, given how this place is bound to be littered to the brim with hostiles while they’re still caught inside.

“Any signs of the storm going away soon?” She asks through the call, receiving a blatant no from the group above “Great, that’s just going to make things that much more complicated down here.”

“I thought you’d have fun with all those people to take down.” Oberon comments.

“Not when they’re this many, and even less when I’m supposed to sneak by.”

“Do you need some help?”

“I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself. I do miss having you by my side for something like this, though.”

“Not as fun without me?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” She soberly admits, turning down her volume for a moment to whisper to herself “And that isn’t the only reason…”

“Did you say something?” Oberon asks, catching her off-guard and nearly making her stumble into the ground.

“N-nothing!” She meekly regains her composure and focuses back on her hiding. Realizing she’s only going to lose more of her time if she sits there doing nothing, she grabs her bow, a Cernos Prime among the finest, and makes her first proper move, staying glued to the wall while there’s nobody around that could spot her and ring the alarms. her safest assumption is to think such an unguarded area of the building could only mean she’s currently far away from the main entrance, and her fears are confirmed when she peeps around a corner and finds nothing but another hallway that splits into two more paths and two different rooms on each side. Looking in the opposite direction leads her to a dead end, so it’s clear where she has to go next.

“Lotus gracious, how can these people work in places like these?” She asks through the still open call with her allies.

“Humans don’t find the same need for athletic prowess that we do, Ivara.” Oberon responds to her doubt “They have been recorded to experience work environments like the ones in Corpus since the dawn of civilization, and they’ve kept refining this model ever since then.”

“Do the majority of all these people even enjoy such workplaces?”

“They never did, and probably never will, but they have to earn their wages somehow. I’m sure they haven’t known anything better in their whole lives than to dedicate their lives to a futile daily routine of mundane work and more mundane work, all for the sake of Profit.”

“At least they’re going to find some relief in the afterlife.” She remarks, moving through any empty corridor and space she can find and hiding behind corners and inside rooms wherever there is a guarding patrol. Although the factory itself isn’t a particularly large structure in comparison to the rest of the complex, the amount of people currently in its interior turn the simple task of sneaking around into an insufferable chore, leaving further to the imagination how many people there could possibly be keeping an eye or even just near the main gates, and if it would even be feasible to handle them without alerting the rest of the facility.

“Damnit, Oberon, I could really use your help down here.” She admits with exasperation.

“Do you need us to create a distraction?” He offers, getting up and gathering his things.

“I would normally not ask for it, but I guess I have no choice this time around. Go ahead.”

After giving them permission to assist her, she finds a nice and cozy spot to sit without being discovered by any passerbys, crossing her legs to wait however long they decide to take to craft their diversion.

In the meantime, the frames overhead conclude picking up their stuff, walking over to the back of the building and gazing down to find more open terrain to land on. Hard concrete isn’t exactly the best material to cushion the blow of an impact, but it will suffice, as they jump over the edge of the roof and make a freefall of approximately eighty feet to the ground.

Unfortunately, their landing isn’t as smooth as they had anticipated. Sure, Excalibur and Betelgeuse transfer the force of their contact with the ground to the tips of their toes, that much goes as smoothly as it possibly could, but Oberon is the last one to touch the floor, and the only one to regret it. Unexpected to everyone watching, he stumbles over his left foot, weakened for reasons unbeknownst to all of them, and nearly trips onto the snow. He barely manages to regain balance and not sprain his ankle, standing in just as much shock as the rest of the group, wondering how he could manage to lose his composure in an action as simple as landing on his feet.

“Are you feeling well?” Excalibur asks, putting aside the urgency of the mission for a moment.

“I’m fine, let’s not leave her waiting any longer.” He dismisses his concern, advancing towards their objective whilst making his best effort to ignore how oddly unbalanced the whole left side of his body feels. He isn’t exactly limping or stumbling about in pain or discomfort, but his posture clearly seems unfitting for someone who holds himself up with both pride and humility all the time, now brought to utter confusion by a physical issue that decided to show itself in the worst time possible. There isn’t any more time to waste in his worrisome thoughts, however, sprinting away at the best of his capacity towards one of the factory’s corners, while the other two exchange concerned glances as they follow.

The frames reach their objective in little to no time, right about in time to match Ivara’s impatience. She opens the call again to voice her frustration:

“Guys, I’d be very grateful if you could hurry, there’s too many people here!”

“We’ll be with you soon, don’t worry.” Oberon reassures her, gesturing Betelgeuse to come close to the wall. The dusk frame approaches the structure, explosive in hand, knowing what’s about to happen next. He initially hoped not to use more than one device in this location, but a cornered teammate doesn’t leave him with much of a choice, sighing with frustration as he places the bomb on the steel wall and backs away.

“And here I thought we would be able to do this without creating a huge mess prematurely.” Betelgeuse confesses, holding the controller between his fingers “I suggest we run away after this explodes, we don’t want them to find us so easily.”

With a quick twirl, the controller now sits on his palm, as he nervously rubs the button for a moment before finally pressing it. The frames immediately retreat once the beeping starts, and Ivara gets up to her feet, looking around the corner in expectation of their incoming fate, and it is quick to arrive.

Betelgeuse’s breath reaches a violent halt, as an ear-deafening blast accompanies a massive fireball that engulfs the entire corner of the facility, expanding and ascending until surpassing the building itself in height. As sight as mundane to them as an explosion of this caliber shouldn’t be anything worth such a strange reaction, yet he stutters as he backs away from simply nothing, nearly tripping over thin air and falling on his behind, but he somehow manages to stay on his feet, despite the overwhelming fear.

Meanwhile, once the blast reaches Ivara’s ears, she wastes not even a single millisecond hiding under stashes of materials, as the Corpus crowd of workers and soldiers make a mad dash towards the afflicted side of their workplace in a mass of hundreds, crowding the hallway until they can no longer see their feet amidst the tightly-packed chaos.

Now is the perfect time to come out from hiding. Ivara tenses her Cernos Prime, an arrow resting between her digits just in case, as she emerges undetected from her hideout. No one has noticed her yet, they’re too busy leaving the area to focus on the incident at the other side of the factory, and the few that may remain shouldn’t pose any significant threat to her and her Prime form, all she has to do is wait until the last one in the desperate multitude has made their leave of absence to take of urgent matters at hand.

It comes as yet another unexpected test of patience, though, there are tons of workers that really need to find out what happened that could’ve produced such a massive, sudden explosion. A corridor as tight as the one they have to traverse doesn’t make their task any quicker, but they eventually make it through, reaching the other side to be met by a massive hole on the wall bordered by burnt and bent metal, and the culprits nowhere to be found. Ivara moves in the opposite direction, fingers crossed with the hopes of finding the same meek, poorly-armed guards she’s always known Corpus for leaving all over the place wherever they go.

Instead, she’s forced back into a corner not to be spotted right away, when her expectations are subverted in the worst way imaginable. At some point, the Board of Directors must have finally had their brain cells functioning properly, and added substantial reinforcements to their garrisons when they noticed their regular forces simply wouldn’t make the cut against the looming threat of Warframes roaming around. There are no mere guards standing there with cheaply-made rifles and no protection aside from a set of shields and their trademark jumpsuits, these steel-clad fellows tread around slowly with heavy plates and pieces of metal attached to their suits, reinforced helmets, and most fearsome of all, railguns. They’ve also made sure to come accompanied by the heaviest brand of Moas they had available, the Fusion variant, and a pair of drones to keep their shields always in top condition. It’s definitely not something she might be able to take down on her own, but she’s going to remain by herself unless she chooses to take a gamble.

“What’s taking so long, Ivara?” Oberon asks, interrupting her train of thought.

“Uh, I might have a bit of a situation here… Do you mind if I use Artemis just a little bit?”

“I thought you would consider saving up your energy for a tough encounter.”

“This is a tough encounter, and I might not even be doing it enough justice by calling it that.”

“Do you need help?” He voices genuine care for her, worrying her as much as he manages to fluster her.

“Y-yes, but I still have to open the entrance for you guys. I might be able to move around these hulks and get you guys in, but I’ll still need help taking them out.”

“We’ll see you there, then.” Oberon declares right before finishing the call, leaving her to figure out all by herself how to get through an obstacle as problematic as these heavy foes guarding her only opportunity to receive some help. Her Cernos Prime has been holstered to her back in favor of her Artemis bow, already glowing and eager to see some action against worthy opponents after such a long time of shooting down lesser enemies and robots that pose more of a nuisance than a real threat. The surprise factor still remains on her side, so it shouldn’t be much of an issue to shoot down both drones from the air before they can detect her, as she tenses the bow to its maximum capacity and loads it with a single energy arrow aimed at her target.

And when she releases, it splits into three, stapling the first drone against the steel curtain blocking the entrance while one arrow goes stray without hitting anything, and the last one knocks the second drone off its effective range to recharge its users’ shields. This immediately alerts the heavily-armed guards and their Moas, turning towards Ivara with their weapons already raised, and most surprisingly, firing. This forces her back into hiding, taking cover inside the nearest room, her only place of safety when there’s nowhere else to protect herself.

That is until she hears her shields drop in a split-second. She doesn’t fully register it at first, until she sees a pair of holes in the wall right in front of her, about the diameter of a closed fist, the metal around them scorched and bent outwards, Furthermore, as she’s about to lean sideways to peek out of the room, she’s caught off-guard by a greatly stinging pain between her ribs that makes it difficult to bend to the side without exposing herself, accompanied by a sour metallic taste in her mouth. The short-lived panic she feels when the guards see her spying sends her back behind the wall, but the pain only worsens when she tries to gasp, just to find herself struggling to drag air into her lungs.

The worst part is that she can hear the heavy footsteps of her approaching enemies and their mechs, already proving to be way different than the feeble Corpus soldiers she’s been accustomed to by firing a second pair of rounds into the walls that make it through, one missing her completely while the second hits her dead-center on the right shoulder, the momentum sending her against the wall before she can even finish acknowledging the massive wound in her chest. The pain coursing through her arm could immobilize a regular human being right on the spot, yet somehow she manages to find the strength to still draw her bow and stagger back up with her remaining resolute, leaning past her cover to send some blessings from Artemis to her opposition.

Another couple of railgun rounds are fired, and she’s able to dodge them by the skin of her teeth this time, albeit with the extreme discomfort coming from her injuries almost earning her an extra pair of bleeding orifices in her body. On the upside of things, the groans she can hear from outside indicate that her counter-offensive had some limited success, and the sounds of malfunctioning machinery assure her that she damaged some of those Moas to the point of making them useless, halting the advance of her steel-clad opponent for at least a few seconds she can use to catch her faltering breath and receive a call from Oberon.

“Is everything alright? We heard gunshots coming from there.”

“G-get your ass here, n-now!” She desperately demands mid-gasps for air, barely ducking under another pair of projectiles that puncture through the wall behind her back like paper. This time it takes her a stunning amount of willpower to straighten herself, her armor already tainted in blood below her ribs, while more and more constant shockwaves of physical suffering travel her whole being at the blink of an eye, a fact she has to battle against as well as the enemies trying to kill her at the very moment. Getting up one more time, she seizes the chance to step out, remembering the amount of rounds it takes to exhaust a railgun magazine, and lets her energy-charged bow do its magic on the reloading juggernaut, emptying her reserves with enough barrages to outdamage the drone’s shield recharges and send the heavy soldier stumbling backwards, somehow withstanding the extra harassment those Fusion Moas provide. However, she’s all out of her heavy power, and her Cernos Prime bow isn’t going to make it through their plating that easily, leaving her with only one alternative as she stares down her opponents with all the might she has remaining, holstering Artemis in favor of taking matters into her own hands.

And her reinforcements are just as hasty with their own desperation, ignoring the sounding alarms as the Moa guarding the area spot them sprinting across the field towards the sealed main entrance, immediately giving chase. Oberon seizes his rifle, planning to save as much energy as he can for later, and shoots down as many mechs as his skilled hands and sight manage to nail down and execute with the limited firing rate he has, still nowhere near enough to keep the horde of automated bipeds at bay.

“How much longer before that’s set up, kid?” Oberon asks with seldom urgency, tossing another empty clip on the ground and swapping it with a brand new one. Truthfully, Betelgeuse juggles around with his bomb and the controller, turned into a nervous wreckage that doesn't even register the chaos going on around him in its full capacity. Even then, the overwhelming urgency overcomes his tremor, forcing him to plant that device against the steel curtain whether he likes it or not, a tight seal pushing out the air in between the explosive and the barrier itself. All that’s left is to press the button, take a few steps back and let all hell loose to welcome themselves in for whatever almighty threat Ivara is facing that has her against the ropes.

And yet, there he is, trembling once again, and the blast hasn’t even been set off. While his teammates fight for their lives, he sits there, knees touching the ground, unable to keep his gaze off a weapon of destruction waiting to be utilized, and consume as much as it may cross its path in burning, inescapable death. There may not be anything to be scorched at the other side, but the possibility alone unnerves him to the point of clouding his mind from any rational thought and the panic-induced frenzy happening within his perimeter, bombarding him with the imagery that he has had to carry with himself for likely millennia.

Ivara can’t just stand there and look pretty while they’re taking so long to come in and assist her. Her wounded form can only be so menacing when it’s clear that the enemies in front of her aren’t going to budge. When another pair of rounds are fired against her, she’s quick to feint out of the way and jump forward, grappling the soldier by their shoulder and quickly stepping over their side to reach their back before their slow reaction time makes them try to reach around in a futile effort to free themselves. It certainly looks like the deadlier version of a piggyback ride, especially since the soldier’s first instinctive response is to spin around in both directions while she keeps maneuvering and making his life absolute hell. She can notice his colleague trying to take aim as he keeps repositioning himself, hurrying her with the knowledge that can’t waste a single more second when one wrong move could be the end for her.

Good thing that she has a trusty combat knife she hasn't had the chance to use up to this point, pulling it out of its scabbard with the intent to strike the single weak spot she was able to make out: the collarbone. The soldier she’s bothering immediately catches this, though, entering panic mode as she pulls back her arm for a clean blow, unwilling to give her that easy of a time taking his life. So he jumps back, Ivara still tightly placed behind him, and crashes against the wall with full force and all his weight put into it, knocking all the air out of her struggling lungs and sending sharp ripples of pain that leave her unable to respond in kind right away. She somehow manages to keep a grasp on him, though, pulling him down to the floor amidst her limpness and doing her greatest effort to sort through her bleeding, malfunctioning shoulder to actually land a hit, that is if she’s even able to cut through the layer of shields protecting him, which ends up being a fruitless effort on the first try.

“Kid?” Oberon asks Betelgeuse, still sorting through an endless horde of Moas while the expert in explosives takes an eternity to simply face his demons while his partner’s life is at stake at the other side. The frame looks completely out of it, immersed in an entirely different world he doesn’t want to be a part of, the passion he showed at the beginning of the mission now gone without even a glimpse of it to be found. As if having looked into the eyes of the gorgon, he remains petrified, locked into a stance of endless thought, while Oberon keeps switching his gaze between him and the raging defense, back and forth with increasing desperation not for the enemies he has to take care of, but for his teammate trapped inside the facility.

And she isn’t faring that much better. Her attempts at dwindling down her target’s shield, both of them still on the ground, have slowly brought some success, finally breaking through the thin layer of electronic protection with a decisive bump of her knife’s hilt. She’s lucky the bulky trooper laying on top of her provides a weird form of cover from the other railgun wielder trying to help his comrade, unwilling to fire senselessly and hurt the person he’s meant to save in the process, but that’s no use any longer. Without anything else getting in the way, Ivara goes for the killing blow, hitting the defenseless soldier with a swift, powerful stab at the very center of the neck. A loud, pained gurgle follows, which turns even more horrific when she turns the knife and pulls it sideways, widening the cut to a mortal degree as the once struggling foe starts giving in to the sweet touch of death. Her mighty wrestle comes to an end, as she puts the blood-stained dagger away and takes a difficult deep breath to regain some vigor.

But just as she thought, she cannot catch a break, when two more rounds are fired by the remaining walking piece of bulk. One goes through the dying soldier’s chest, finishing him off and getting completely blocked off by Ivara’s shields, while the second doesn’t have to deal with this pesky defensive barrier, passing through her left thigh and leaving another gaping wound in her battered form.

The cry of pure agony she lets out makes its way past the factory’s interior, reaching Oberon’s ears and sending him over the edge. He isn’t willing to stall this any longer when she’s probably on the verge of death, ignoring the remaining Moa and turning all the way around to snap some sense into a Betelgeuse that refuses to do his job.

“Kid, Ivara is on the other side, and she’s going to die if you don’t set off that bomb immediately.”

The thought of a fellow Warframe dying by his inaction actually brings some of Betelgeuse’s senses back to the present. Like a startled animal, he looks around frantically until he sees Oberon, more judgemental than he’s ever seen him and taking several projectiles to his shields without any care for it, and remembers the device sitting unused against the metallic obstacle in front of them.

A million thoughts rush through his mind, battling against each other while the memories of fire engulfing everything in his surroundings keep him on constant edge and effectively unable to act. He has the power to unleash hell incarnate, but he doesn’t have the guts to set it loose with his own hands, and despite the lives of his teammates being put on the line, he’s proven to himself once again that he’s too much of a whimpering coward to choose who to spare and who to pass through the guillotine. Even if he were to be yelled at, he wouldn’t put Ivara’s life over a simple worker, even in the cruelty of war that could justify his injustice.

But he knows someone that would, and how she would respond to his misdoing. In his lack of willpower, she will prevail to make the decisions that he never could, forgive him for the countless promises he could never live up to, and step up to save a life that matters to so many people she knows, without taking a step back to think about consequences that would hold her back from doing her job. She isn’t here to babysit him once again, to take responsibility for his mistakes.

So he knows what to do. Finishing the rush of warring delusions in his mind that took place in a split-second, he activates the bomb and backs away without giving it a second thought, and the others are just as quick to react, following him as the device takes no time to reach its final ticks, and then explode.

Another burst of flames ensues, melting the parts of the steel curtain that aren’t blown to smithereens and revealing its interior to the frames after a couple minutes of constant tension and battle that couldn’t have felt more eternal than they did. The inner sight is about what they would’ve expected, walls covered in blood, holes and arrows that didn’t meet any targets. And most worrisome of all, a gravely wounded Ivara, splatters of red all over the wall she’s leaning against while sitting on the floor, breathing heavily to keep her damaged self alive. There’s also the remaining juggernaut, startled by their sudden interruption and holding his railgun mid-reload, and he knows what’s coming by the sight of three Warframes pissed beyond any reasoning.

Excalibur is the first one to run down the hallway, already twirling his skana while the heavy trooper rushes his gun’s recharge as much as he can, a fruitless effort that only earns him a jammed firearm while the frame jumps him into the ground and, without wasting any further time, starts hacking away in wild abandon while Oberon puts the Fusion Moas and the remaining drone out of service before they can pose a threat. No amount of armor could ever get in the way of the creation of a horror scene, tissue and muscle scattered away as he reaches down to bone only to crush it on sight, and then cut away organs like a bloody slaughterhouse. He keeps slashing away even after his foe is long dead, giving Oberon plenty of room to make his own advance while Betelgeuse keeps the robots at bay with his scattershots, reducing their numbers even further.

Oberon gets to the position of a whimpering Ivara, heaving her breath and gasping for any life she can suck into her lungs. Her wounds have worsened in gravity due to all the movement, and she acquired two more in her final struggle, one on her abdomen and another one on her left forearm, and they’re just as messy and blood-covered as the rest of her. By the looks of it, she barely managed to survive, and somehow dodged another pair of bullets before they could come in, and crawled her way off the Corpus heavy soldier she had to kill with her own hands at some point.

“Don’t worry, it’s all over.” Oberon declares, placing a hand on her injured shoulder and prompting a wince of discomfort from her weakened form. There’s a lot that she will need patched up, but he’s not sure if his energy reserves will be able to sort through the depth and seriousness of the damages on her body. At least it helps a little to numb the insane amounts of pain she’s going through.

“I-I can… Get up… On my own…” She slowly tells him, running out of breath with each few words she utters and getting a handful of his forearm to pull herself up, or at least try. She somehow manages to get on her feet with extremely shaky legs, one of them still with a wound which he can see through, but the expected result soon arrives, as she soon falls back to the floor due to her extreme weakness. It’s no use, he picks her up and carries her in his arms, ignoring the blood drenching his armor, letting her give in to her exhaustion after coming so close to embracing the void. She might not be pleased with the thought of being so badly wounded to the point of being useless, but knowing she was able to survive and is now gifted with the pleasure of resting in Oberon’s gentle embrace brings enough comfort to balance it out.

“Kid?” Oberon calls out to Betelgeuse, who’s still outside “Come in, let’s finish the job and get the hell out of here-”

They are suddenly interrupted by the odd sight of a marching crowd, soldiers and workers mixed with one another, amounting to dozens, probably even hundreds of people. Oberon’s mental alarms start going off, immediately turning around and sparing a hand to hold Excalibur in place as he looks up to the civilians and almost sprints down to assault them without giving it a second thought. A strong squeeze on his shoulder reminds him not to kill anything living and moving, at the very least, and right on time, as the Corpus workers don’t show any aggression towards them to begin with.

If anything, they toss their weapons on the ground and raise their arms without the frames needing to point their guns at them. Corpus normally shows more fervor through their workforce than this, so to say this comes as a jarring surprise is a massive understatement, even if two of the frames have seen something very similar happen before.

And in it, Betelgeuse finds an opportunity. Once he makes sure to gun down the last Moa standing, he walks in and reaches Oberon before he can come to a decision, with a solid suggestion in mind:

“Spare them.”

Oberon looks back at him with curiosity and confusion, wondering why he would want to do that in the first place. Given this, he adds:

“They’ve done nothing to us, and they’ve even come to the point of surrendering peacefully. We don’t have to guide them home, but we should at least give them a chance to run away from here before we blow up everything.”

“If we let them live, this place will be up and running again in no time.” Oberon points out “This isn’t like a simple job where we come in and take what we need, we’ve come this far to make sure this facility becomes completely unusable by anyone and that it stays that way long term.”

“Isn’t it enough to just blow it all up?” Betelgeuse refutes, in a voice filled with genuine worry “Look at them, they’re scared, they’re not like the Corpus loyalists we’ve faced up to this point. We’ve been given the chance to spare some lives in this raging conflict, we don’t have to squander it without any sense or reasoning.”

Despite some reluctance lingering due to their past experiences with the corporate cult, Oberon isn’t willing to dispute his disposition to weaken the power of Corpus in the region by all means necessary. From a moral standpoint, he can see where the kid is coming from, but probably all that good will might be gone when it comes to bite them in the ass later.

“We’re going to take you outside, and you’ll be on your own from then on.” Oberon issues his orders to the Corpus crowd with firm authority, followed by a threat “If we see you ever again, either working here or somewhere else in the region, we won’t think twice before killing you. Is that clear?”

The people in front nod as eagerly as they can, guided outside of the factory and the dockyard grounds by him while he still carries Ivara with all the care he can put into protecting an injured teammate. Betelgeuse stays behind, following the directions one of the workers gave him and reaching the main engine room they’ve fought to reach all day. Knowing they didn’t have to spill any more blood brings some relief, even if they’ll now have to endure the brutality of the weather outdoors. He can only ask for so much before he officially turns into a whiny bastard, though.

The engine stands in front of him, massive and proudly raised by the Lord knows how many endless hours of work and dedication from those that made it. In his hands, rests the device made to send it to oblivion. He would’ve liked not to have used a grand total of three explosives in the same day, but he can’t blame the actions that had to be taken as an act of desperation either. They’ve made it this far, he might as well not put into question their methods used any further.

Breaking through the thick glass barrier, he ignores the sirens as he plants the device on the metallic surface of the system, taking his deepest breath yet once the deed is done. All that is left is to detonate it with the controller resting in his hands that has seen far too much usage, and to bring another taste of Erebus into the mortal realm, something he isn’t too keen about. Somehow, one way or another, he’s bound to be the hellbringer, harbinger of destruction, something he should be proud of but simply cannot. He’ll never be able to save any lives, he’s never going to be a hero, his only job so far has been to burn and to condemn. To smite is his order, not his will. His labor is to devastate, and even with his greatest efforts, his success will simply bring sorrow, and everything about him has been created to scorch the worlds.

At least he should make it count. He presses the controller’s button, turning his back from hell inbound, and runs out of the room. A factory as currently desolate as this has nothing else to offer, his presence is no longer needed, so he doesn’t spend a single second lounging around for no reason, and reaches the rest of his squad and a team of workers that is already a good distance away from what will soon be nothing but a smoking mess. Without anything better to do, he sits on the snow and gets himself comfortable for the fireworks, something he’s supposed to enjoy.

The final ball of flames erupts, taking anything around with itself in molten inferno before morphing into a fiery pillar that threatens to kiss the skies, shining with solemnity as its reflection shows in Betelgeuse’s pupils. His eyes don’t find it as painful as to stare at the Sun, and not as beautiful either, a haunting reminder of his purpose in this existence that’s been cruel enough of a joke to give him the gift of eternity just to deem him a grim reaper.

If he’s to taint his hands with nothing but the blood of enemies and innocents alike, then, he shall prevail by making it all worth the sacrifices in the end. If he cannot all save all those poor souls, he will at least make them all see their deaths weren’t in vain, unlike the cities he must have burned down for a cause he’s long forgotten about.

And as he makes his resolution, the fire settles, leaving nothing but intoxicating black hue to cover the area, and a step forward after so much misdirection. May the remaining dockyards meet the same fate by the work of his hands.


	30. XXIX: Lessons Spelled in Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyr chooses her next assault target as an opportunity to teach Deinos a thing or two about speech.

In all her years of experience, during and after the Old War, Valkyr could’ve never imagined herself as a tutor or a teaching figure. Such a profession had always landed on her eyes as something vapid, cumbersome, devoid of any thrill or excitement, boring and unimaginative. It would pretty much suck anyone’s will to live with its sheer staleness as a job, or at least that’s what she thought.

And yet here she is, leading a steady march towards a Grineer fortress, with none other than the fiend herself, Deinos, by her side. The beastly creature never takes her gaze off the commanding valkyrie, quietly expecting her promised teachings of language and communication in a way that inevitably raises tension between them and amongst the rest of the observant team. Meanwhile, Limbo, Wisp and Atropos keep looking at the pair, wondering what is up between them that would keep them so close and friendly with each other out of the blue.

“So,” Valkyr opens, catching Deinos’ full attention “could you tell me, what planet are we on right now?”

“We…” The makeshift frame makes a full stop just to answer in a low voice “Are on… Venus…”

“Good. Could you say it again, please?”

“We are… On Venus…”

“Now say it faster, and louder, I can barely hear you.”

“W-we are on V-v-v-ven...us…” Deinos shows clear difficulties to express herself in a pace faster than she’s been used to, which deeply annoys a Valkyr that wants her new pupil not to learn at a snail’s pace.

“No, that’s not good enough, say it properly, without any hesitation.”

Even with all of Valkyr’s demands, Deinos isn’t able to force herself to do as she would desire, bringing the team’s advance to a screeching halt, yet they’re not allowed to question what’s going on either. Until their pathfinder dictates otherwise, they are condemned to stay as clueless spectators, watchers of a forming mystery that taunts them to the point of sitting under their noses while they have to stand there powerless, unable to say a word of complaint. At least it seems they’re going to have some more fun killing a few more pesky Grineer, even if it’s growing a bit stale by now.

“We are on… Venus…” Deinos responds again with her greatest effort to date to sound coherent.

“Don’t drag on your breath when you finish a sentence, Lotus save me.” Valkyr pinches the front center of her helmet, already remembering why she hates this kind of job so much. Deinos simply stares at her innocently, turning around to watch her back just to draw her gaze back onto her and her frustration, blissfully unaware of how much agony she’s causing with her lack of progress.

“Look, let’s keep moving, I’ll teach you some things along the way, and you better listen.”

With that finally out of the way, the party can resume their trek towards a clone-infested fort that awaits their visit. Only a few miles later, the frames are already knocking at their door and expecting some kind of reaction from the garrison inside, which gives Valkyr enough time to give another chance to Deinos and her learning capabilities:

“Alright, so where are we right now?”

Atropos steps in to respond “Are you blind now? We’re obviously in-”

“Shut up, Atropos. I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Excuse me for wanting to speed things up, then.” She off-hand complains before going to the back of the group once again. Deinos finally catches the hint and tries to reply on her own:

“We are… W-we are…”

“We are…?” Valkyr nudges her to continue, now that she's so close to success.

“W-we… V-Venus, we are in V-Venus.”

Such a roaring success leaves Deinos’ current “teacher” clapping with renewed enthusiasm, giving her all the hope to keep progressing that she needed to feel her efforts ultimately weren’t in vain. Now it’s only a matter of continuing with other things to make sure it wasn’t the exception rather than the rule.

“Well done!” Valkyr pats Deinos on the head in a way that almost seems patronizing “Now, let’s keep making progress, you’re still showing some stuttering and some delays when you’re about to respond. Let’s try with a different set of objects this time.”

Since it’s clear that the Grineer aren’t here to make any friends, troops already running on the battlements and trying to shoot down on them, it’s about the right time to not leave them waiting any longer. The doors of the place aren’t going to open anytime soon, so there’s only one option left to get inside.

And Valkyr’s already getting onto it. Claws deployed and sharp as razorblades, she wastes not a single second firmly placing one foot on the wall of scrap and propelling herself upwards, holding tightly the first two protrusions her hands can get a grasp on when her ascent loses momentum. Obviously, she’s got herself a loyal student closely following her with the same technique, far clunkier in comparison, and they both start climbing the enemy defenses without any care for getting shot down or thrown off by anything.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team stays below, not because of an incapability to scale the structure, but rather a lack of involvement. Both frames are already way ahead, catching up wouldn’t be anything but a nuisance to the brawlers that already seem more focused on each other than anything else.

“Aren’t we… Going to help them?” Wisp brings up in confusion for their lack of commitment, to which Limbo shakes his head and Atropos shrugs dismissively.

“They seem to be doing fine without us.” Limbo comments “I don’t want to ruin their fun either, Valkyr would get so annoyed if I did so.”

“That bitch is better off without me anyways.” Atropos bitterly confesses, looking at both of them as they jump over the top of the wall, landing at the other side to be met right away with a welcoming committee of a couple dozen Grineer, as heavily armed as ever.

“Alright, Deinos, here’s the next part of today’s lesson.” Valkyr speaks up, unfazed by all the guns centered at her “I want you to count your kills, one by one, and at the end you’re going to tell me exactly what you slayed. Understood?”

Deinos nods in confirmation, but Valkyr isn’t satisfied with just this, expecting a more involved answer to her demands.

“Understood?” She reiterates more firmly, drawing her sharp gaze towards her and somehow taking her aback, an extremely rare sight from the stoic makeshift frame.

“U-understood…” Deinos declares her understanding, tightening the hold on her shotgun as it already starts gaining a fiery glow on its barrels. Valkyr nods back and raises a hand with three extended fingers, alerting her foes even further to the point of making them try to close in the distance.

Once she lowers one of them, though, it’s clear what she’s trying to indicate, making Deinos change her stance on the spot and look at her surroundings with extreme attention to detail. Lancers, melee soldiers with machetes, a few heavier Ballistas and Heavy Gunners sprinkled in between, there’s nothing too far out of the ordinary in this formation. They’ve even given themselves the commodity of housing some of Regor’s Tubemen to add strength to their formation, as much or as little as that might add to the fight that’s about to ensue.

Valkyr lowers another finger, leaving her index as the last one standing. The Grineer aren’t willing to wait any longer, though, as a few of them start firing before she can finish her countdown. This rude act of disrespect forces her and her apprentice out of their position, hopping backwards into more Grineer that they can only push away while she isn’t hasn’t given both of them permission to begin the showdown. The gunfire that surrounds them only grows more intense, slowly trickling their shields away as Valkyr delays the end of her countdown, holding that one finger up at all times regardless of whether she’s still or if she’s dodging around. Such an arbitrary roadblock raises Deinos’ anxiety to an all-time high, never taking her eyes off that single digit that refuses to be put down, despite the furious barrage of bullets coming from all directions that isn’t going to cease unless they make it stop with their own hands. There isn’t any tangible reason that forces her to obey with such rigid fervor, yet she does so anyways, with an unhealthy degree of devotion that prevails despite it putting her life at risk. Her shields reach critically low levels while she keeps jumping around, looking at that finger that taunts her disability to do anything until her self-afflicted shackles are stripped off her being. Her life is on the line and the only obstacle is herself.

And then the gates are dropped the instant that Valkyr’s finger moves down to gently touch the palm of her hand, finishing the countdown to her enemies’ demise, and letting probably the hungriest beast in the entire Origin system loose to her own leisure. Those that once thought it would be a good idea to come close to them now don’t even have enough time to regret it, getting sliced and snapped into bits and pieces by Valkyr while Deinos’ shotgun goes to town with those behind, bringing them and their guts down all over the ground one by one, as she starts counting:

“One, two, three, four…” She keeps track of each one she guns down into the afterlife, never missing a single one and always keeping an eye on her targets to make sure they’re all dead. It also proves to be a surprisingly effective way for both of them to keep control of the fight’s pace, never letting it go in the defenders’ favor when they’re constantly becoming new kills to add to Deinos’ active body count. The Grineer formation already starts falling apart when her counting reaches the tens, forcing reinforcements into the battle that arrive far too late, as both frames are already moving out to reach somewhere more advantageous inside the fortress.

The battlements aren’t exactly much of an improvement from the ground level, but at least it means enemies will be trickling into their range at a far slower, more manageable pace that won’t get them ambushed as easily. There are some other issues hindering the speed of their progress as well, like Deinos’ limbs losing some of their glow, or the near-claustrophobic lack of space they’ve forced upon themselves by changing positions, or even the absence of support from the rest of the team that Valkyr hasn’t been able to notice up until this point, where they sight at plain sight doing nothing.

“Hey, assholes, I would appreciate the help!” She yells from a distance, raising her arms to protect her face against a few incoming machetes directed at her.

Limbo gets up and responds “Would you now? I thought you two were doing just fine without-”

“Just get your asses here already or I’ll chop them off myself when I’m done here!” She threatens back, bringing the rest of her team up to their feet, albeit pretty reluctantly.

“Can you at least open the door?” He requests, to which she aggressively shakes her head, crushing the hopes of her team for a more seamless entry that wouldn’t require them going out of their way to climb up a wall mid-battle.

“What a leader…” He mutters to himself, which Atropos barely catches thanks to their mutual proximity, and nods in agreement. Better not leave her waiting any longer if they want to keep their Helminth-reinforced buttcheeks, then. Before they begin climbing the walls, they grab up their things, exchanging glances and not placing any objections when Limbo takes a step forward before jumping right into the Rift. He reappears at the top of the wall, twin revolvers twirling rapidly, and shoots down ten or so clones by the time Valkyr and Deinos can register what he just did.

“You could’ve done that way sooner, you showoff!” She complains, pushing him aside at the same time to claw down another Heavy Gunner and throwing a few other Grineer off the wall.

“I mean, I could, but I wasn’t feeling quite up to ruin your fun with your new follower.” He responds unaffected by her harshness, preparing to go wild with his handgun skills on these bothersome foes before Valkyr gets a grip of his wrist and hinders his aim.

“Wait, don’t!” She suddenly exclaims “You might ruin her kill count, I can’t have that happen!”

“Well, valkyrie, do you need our help or not? Make up your mind already.” He answers with a tone of annoyance that surprises her deeply, breaking through her own expectations for her demands to be fulfilled as she just stares at him with regret.

“Y-yeah, I did, just right now… Thank you…” She confesses with a lowered head and a heavy heart, only pushing up her gaze when it’s time to focus on the battle once again.

“I’ll assume you won’t need our help for the remainder of the raid, if that’s the case.” He says, looking over the edge of the wall to see if he’s going to have a safe landing. When he looks back at her, she nods, giving him the prompt he needs to jump back to where he was, returning to the judging presence of a much quieter Wisp and an Atropos that can quite tell what went down up there, apart from all those bodies.

“So we’ll just keep sitting here or not?” She questions.

“Well, I came back. What can you assess from that?”

Atropos huffs at this turnout of events, expected but still nothing else than a nuisance in the end. By the time the three of them look up to the walls, both frames are back at it like nothing ever happened, more and more lifeless clones dropping left and right as they don’t pose much opposition to Warframe might in spite of their numbers, just like everything else.

“She obviously doesn’t care about us.” Atropos tries to remark, much to Limbo’s denial.

“She does, at least as far as I know, and I’ve known her since the beginning.” He confesses in refutation of her negativity “She simply tends to get carried away when her mind’s focused on a single matter.”

“Would you follow the lead of someone like that?” She asks with doubt in his commitment.

“That’s what we’re doing right now, isn’t it?” He asks rhetorically, matching her condescending attitude with enough incision to surprise her, which he uses to continue “I don’t want to be too harsh with her, but this kind of rash, tunnel-vision behavior tends to come back to bite their perpetrators in the ass. Got to thank Oberon, Eudico and that one day she almost caught herself on fire for that lesson.”

“What makes you think she’s going to learn anything?”

“I’ll just quote Oberon for this, my head’s starting to hurt now that I’m trying to sound all clever and stuff.” He clears his throat “‘Anger blinds reasoning, and those that succumb may only learn when they are forced to confront the consequences of their actions.’”

Her intrigue caught, Atropos listens attentively, and doesn’t let any of the words pronounced move past her by her natural dismissal. Their grandiosity ends up leaving a gaudy, if not dull taste in her mouth due to their overembellishment, but as hard as it might be to admit, a lesson is a lesson. It might not come in handy ever for her and her bare ambition not to be disturbed, but it’s better than nothing.

And Valkyr is still going at it with her pupil atop the wall, the enemy numbers finally dwindling right about the same time they can hear a call for reinforcements. Their time here is limited now, probably not more than a couple extra minutes thanks to the closeness of Grineer fortifications, so they better make them count.

Grabbing the makeshift frame by the wrist as she reloads her shotgun and verifies her amount of kills once more, she brings her back down to the main grounds to face off against one final wave that doesn’t even seem that eager to combat them either, putting as much distance between themselves and the bloodthirsty frames as possible.

“How many do you have so far?” Valkyr asks Deinos, shaking off some of the blood from her fingers.

“I had… F-forty six… Before we came down…”

“Don’t drag your breath.” She reiterates “We have a couple more minutes to stay here, so keep raising that number until it’s time to go.” She calmly orders, to which the makeshift frame looks back in acknowledgement and shoots down another Lancer to confirm her participation. Joyful to see they might finish it up on a high note, Valkyr fixes her stance, straightening herself, and drawing a deep breath to then let out a mighty Warcry that sends her nearby foes fleeing, and reinvigorates a Deinos that much needed it in scarcity of fuel in her body.

No distance will be able to save the remaining Grineer now, when they have pretty much nowhere to run. Valkyr sorts through them effortlessly, running and clawing at top speed without any regard for the integrity of her digits, while Deinos hops from side to side as her enemies fail to land a bullet or a melee blow on her. Her shotgun slowly grows brighter and brighter, and her movements don’t take much time to lose their momentum as she steadies her feet, giving her final target one last chance to at least be able to claim they did something against her by hitting her with their last rounds, before a massive blast of pure, scorching energy exits the barrels of her firearm, burning holes through the bodies of those that get in the way and consuming the rest in an explosion of fiery plasma that matches the height of the walls themselves.

Perhaps they quite overdid it. By the time the smoke settles, there are no more Grineer to be found in their immediate vicinity, while the rest are dead or probably cowered away. Maybe it’s for the better, as Valkyr nearly broke her claws while cutting through all that Grineer armor, and Deinos lazily lies on the snow, utterly spent down to the last gram of her reserves. Knowing there won’t be much else to do here, the feline valkyrie goes over to pick up her student, carrying her over one shoulder, and moves to the small cabin where the main gate controls must be located. It’s simply a matter of pushing a pair of buttons and pulling down a lever, and the barrier that once impeded the rest of the team from entering the fortress are now pushed aside, although it’s not for them to come in this time.

A long day of fighting bears its fruit, as master and apprentice are able to walk outside with burning success behind their backs. Something catches Valkyr’s eye as she remember one detail in particular, though, and she asks Deinos while looking down to the floor:

“Well, how many kills did you get in total?”

She doesn’t get a response, the frame resting on her shoulders hanging her arms in absolute exhaustion and remaining unresponsive. A small nudge with a shrug of Valkyr’s shoulders brings her back to her senses a little bit, enough to make sure she heard what she said.

“N-ninety eight…” The tired beast of a frame answers, earning herself a congratulating pat on the back.

“Ninety eight what?” Valkyr insists.

“G-G-Grineer…”

“Now say it all together at once, and without dragging your breath.”

Deinos takes a bit of time to muster up the fortitude in herself to do a task as mundane as this, leaving Valkyr standing on the snow right past the entrance of a desecrated fortress.

“Ninety e-eight… G-G-Grineer… I killed n-n-ninety eight-”

Valkyr shrugs her shoulders to interrupt her and make her gulp to start over. Unwilling to make the same mistake twice, Deinos fills her lungs with cold air and speaks again:

“Grineer. I k-killed n-n-ni-ninety e-eight Grineer.”

“Well done!” Valkyr happily lets Deinos indulge in her success, picking up a Grineer corpse from the ground and putting it over her free shoulder “You’ve earned it, just make sure to keep practicing on your speech pattern the way I taught you, and I’ll keep on coaching you for a while to make sure we’re making progress.”

With that said, she makes her way back into the snowy landscape, carrying the weight of both a living and a dead creature on each side, walking past her team that look at her with a millions questions about what she’s planning, and none of them they’re eager to ask, not when they’re already heading out to their next objective. And Deinos rest on Valkyr’s shoulder, assured that she’s still got a lot to learn for the next few weeks.


	31. XXX: Roots From Your Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unsolicited downtime gives Pegasus the perfect time to put his beliefs into question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is on the shorter end of all the chapters I've written thus far (and yet it's still slightly longer than the average chapter someone else would write. Why do I keep doing this to myself)
> 
> Also, college may or may not come start kicking me in the ass soon, so that might fuck with my already unstable writing schedule a little bit. Don't worry, though, I'll still try to keep making progress.

Pegasus has seen the same gray walls too many times already. The same metallic ceilings, the same cameras rotating around, the same scanners turned on and off upon detecting a passerby, all of it has grown dull to the point of being tasteless. The cold doesn’t help matters at all, a constant nuisance that throws all workers back behind shut gates and closed doors, halting any of the progress they’ve made until the blizzard dies down to a more bearable degree. Even then, Corpus constantly rotates its workforce in and out of the outer dockyard, in an effort to avoid any casualties from hypothermia, slowing down the construction of their assigned dreadnought part to a degree that’s unbearable for the perfect frame.

Groaning in frustration, he bangs the back of his head against the wall he’s leaning on, protected by the plating of his helmet from any harm he might cause himself. He doesn’t even care if he is disturbing those at the other side with the constant noises, he needs something, anything he can do to kill time amidst the insufferable monotony, and to clear his head a bit from those closest to him.

That’s right, Deinos hasn’t given him any signs of life yet, and Alad hasn’t been at his most cheerful lately. Not knowing how’s the other Warframe he’s oathed to protect with his life surely takes a more than just heavy toll on him, only amplified by the infrequent calls he can catch with his creator that amount to little more than stressed and stressful rants that precede a minute or two of awkwards silence every single time. Hanging up in any of those occasions would yield no gain of any kind for either of them, the only thing Pegasus can do is endure an Alad that’s never quite directly mad at him, but towards everything else in varying degrees of drunkenness. Hearing him complain about the idiocy of the Board of Directors is only engaging the first few times, the point’s already been hammered into his brain and the rest is just jarring leftovers of a loathing that loops itself like a broken record, only interrupted by those moments of silence or the hiccups from the wasted scientist.

And yet he’s never dared ask him why he still works for them. Such resentment would have the opposite effect from attaching someone to the source of their disdain to this sickening of a degree, not even those most desperate for their paycheck would sacrifice so much of their psyche to stay in a position they despise with their whole beings.

And he knows this from first-hand experience, thanks to another mutiny he had to witness yesterday. A few dozen workers, all of them armed up with anything they could find, from wrenches to spare guns and some heavier equipment they stole from the trained garrison, had gathered in the grounds between the buildings of the facility, and aimed to seize a cargo vessel to drive it as far away from the installations as they could in open betrayal. All work in the area had been ceased, as hundreds of workers gathered outside to watch what in the same of Profit was taking place. Many colleagues had to face whether to join their comrades in sublevation or to stay out of the conflict, while a group headed off to secure the landing bay for themselves and their little act of rebellion. “Profit didn’t want this from us”, “They don’t know what they’re doing” they shouted at the top of their longs, along with many other things they had to say about their working conditions. One of them even spoke about having to see one of their partners die to the cold, just for everybody else to continue with their jobs like that person never existed in the first place, not even acknowledging the occurrence of their passing.

Of course, in all their vanity and their hypocrisy, plenty of these helpless workers would raise their fists in solidarity to their newfound cause, oathing unconditional loyalty to their brethren and their safety so that they would be able to see their homes with their wives and kids one day. Foolish of them to think they would be able to so daringly defy their own mortality and pretend to control their own destiny, when in the end, they had only lived a lie all along. By the time the cargo ship they waited so eagerly had arrived, armed forces under the orders of their higher-ups had seized control of the facility as a whole, and they all came in armed to their teeth with no intention of letting anyone go. But this time was different.

Unlike previous occasions where a bunch of young, brave souls would plead for liberty and try to escape corporate hell by any means possible, these insurrectionists actually resisted. The soldiers that were expecting a simple, peaceful surrender were caught in shock and confusion when the rebels showed fierce resistance, opening fire at them and initiating a gunfight that sent the entire place into disarray as he watched from the sidelines. He lost track of the amount of casualties after they reached a hundred, and they didn’t stop there, they kept warring it out for a long few minutes until the very last member of this desertion had been killed. They couldn’t have gotten away anyways, their transport had suffered too many damages during the exchange and wouldn’t be able to take them anywhere other than the afterlife if they tried to fly that thing in those conditions.

After chuckling away at the irony of it all, he finally went over to get a closer look of the leftovers from the battle, kicking a dead man’s foot out of the way and finding himself standing in front of a pile of bodies, filled with bullet holes and regret. Many of them were men, young and probably none of them above their forties, but strangely enough, there were quite a few women, just as eager to risk it all and die despite being filled with youth. He could still see the clear, absolute terror in the faces, eyes widened from those that knew those were their last few minutes alive. They all regretted the stance they had taken far too late for it to count for something, their fate was sealed when they chose to make themselves superiors to those with far more power than they could ever fathom, and now not even Profit will welcome their souls, so hopefully at least they believed in a limbo, or an Erebus where their spirits could find the pleasure of existing in exchange for eternal suffering.

And then some of them were stoic, not to even mention those that were smiling as warmly as the sun. Perhaps the prospect of dwelling in a hypothetical hell for the rest of eternity didn’t sound as bad to them, or they had nothing to leave behind in death. He never got to understand why they were at their happiest or their calmest when the cold embrace of death was looming over them, but sure got some conclusion for himself out of it.

The corporate monster known as Corpus isn’t to be trusted anymore. In a place as riddled with madness that could challenge the craziness of many emperors of ancient times as the Origin system, only the strongest, most cohesive beliefs will survive and make it to greatness, and bring some semblance of civilization to the ruins of long gone Orokin glory. Corpus pretended to do that with their ruthless economics and their cutthroat business models that would earn them a reputation akin to a cult, but its effectiveness was undeniable, until it was. Binding the human soul to its primal need to subsist will only work for so long until they find themselves facing another issue that makes their immediate survival the greatest priority above anything else, and in the middle of Venus’ raging weather, there couldn’t have been a scenario more perfect for a disaster of this magnitude.

Maybe Alad V would smile just as brightly as well if he were to face a similar fate.

And exiting his inner thoughts, Pegasus steps back into the present day. Nothing hasn’t changed since, the same boring ceilings, the same boring walls, the same boring buildings and the same boring people. Their desire for revolution reached a violent end that day, and hasn’t peaked its ugly face anymore since then. What a shame, just when things started to look a little more exciting than the usual.

He then receives a call from Alad himself. To get a chance to speak with him so early in the day is a strange occurrence, he normally calls past sunset, when the liquor hits him at its hardest and the daily load of work is gone. Either the rant will be especially egregious this time around, or he found something particularly intriguing from his investigations, which given the nature of his job, isn’t likely to capture much of Pegasus attention unless it happens to have something to do with his Warframe nature.

“Hey, Boss.” He greets Alad in the most neutral way possible, unsure of what mood to set for an opener. Maybe that’s for the best, since a tired sigh from the corporate scientist follows, indicating this isn’t going to be a cheerful talk about the joys of life or what flavor of ice cream they’re going to pick up from the store.

“Hello again, Pegasus.” Alad replies, just as devoid of any excitement “I hope you’ve been able to find something to entertain yourself while you’re still guarding that dockyard.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny. This dockyard doesn’t exactly offer much in the realm of diversion, aside from wandering around the same gray hallways each and every single day and seeing what Venus will have to offer in terms of weather. This really makes reading your research documents look like the most engaging experience ever in comparison.”

“Wait, how did you get access to-”

“You’re one of Corpus’ most celebrated scientists, your documents are a common sight on these people’s devices.” Pegasus is quick to respond at the brink of receiving accusations of peeping.

“Right, I guess that makes sense, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” Alad deviates the conversation with raising worry in his voice.

“Why do you sound so worried all of a sudden?” Pegasus asks, getting off the wall and staring into the light on the ceiling.

“They found your sister, Pegasus. She’s alive on the other side of the planet.”

Pegasus’ eyes widen under his helmet, standing there as he’s overwhelmed by the shock of the declaration and his mind can’t pick a thought to stick with. he looks from side to side, making sure no one’s walking into the hallway, and asks:

“Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter?” Alad firmly questions him, despite the utter lack of alcohol in his tone.

“Forgive me, Boss, it’s just too shocking of a revelation to receive all of a sudden.”

“Well, there it is, I said it. Make of it what you will.”

Such ill-placed indifference leaves the perfect frame nothing short of confused, staring into the wall right in front of him while trying to comprehend Alad’s lack of any tangible, strong emotions towards these news.

“I thought you’d rejoice, or at least be alleviated by this.” Pegasus points out.

“Trust me, I was when I first heard this from our intelligence members, but it means nothing when I can’t do anything with this knowledge and neither can you, especially given her current company.”

“Who is she with right now?” Pegasus questions again, his curiosity thoroughly piqued.

“She was last seen close to the south pole’s outer edge two hours ago, clearing a Grineer fortification alongside a Warframe we haven’t fully identified yet.”

“Warframe? The Lotus has her under her control?”

“We don’t know yet. There’s Warframes out there acting as free agents, so we have to make sure if this is one of those instances or not.”

“But why can’t we do anything about it?”

“Well, I don’t know, Pegasus, you tell me why I sound dead inside and haven’t left this shithole’s airspace to go to another shithole down south to rescue her. I thought it would be obvious for you by now, considering where you’re standing and what you’re doing at this very moment.”

“She’s the closest you’ll ever have to a daughter, shouldn’t you at least be trying to do something to help her out of her situation?”

“You’re in Corpus, Pegasus.” Alad bitterly remarks “You should know already how little you can do about jackshit unless you jerk off the right people when they feel like it.”   
  


“Politics isn’t my thing, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, perhaps that’s why you’re far better off than me, you don’t know how lucky you are.”

After this exchange, they proceed with their usual topics, as mundane as endless rounds of guarding the same place are ever going to get, and as insufferable as sorting through endless hours of research just to create the perfect environment inside a cryopod can possibly be. By the sound of it, Pegasus might soon have another surrogate sibling to deal with, based on the little he knows about his obscure creation process. It’s obviously going to take a lot of effort and work hours from the resident genius when he isn’t worrying about Deinos or Pegasus, but if it serves for a decent distraction from all those headache-inducing issues, he better not start complaining about his labor too.

Ten to twelve minute of engaging conversation come to probably its first peaceful end among all the other calls they’ve had since Pegasus arrived at the dockyard. Ironic, considering what preceded it. The almighty frame is left to his own devices once again, the hallway as empty as ever, as he leans against that cold wall behind his back and lets himself slowly drop to the floor, inevitably sitting down while tapping the metal with the tip of his spear in an effort to distract his hauntingly empty mind from the monotony of it all. 

At least his helmet’s crest isn’t going to freeze and lose any of its luscious glory anytime soon, and neither will the rest of his being. It’s such a shame these people seemingly can’t take care of themselves to the point that he’s bound to the confines of this installation until their duty is done, as if their worthlessness wasn’t evident enough with the fragility of their mortal vessels. In times like these, the illusion of glory that Profit and its naive followers has tried to paint over his eyes couldn’t be any more faint or subdued by the actual reality of things, that makes his precious sister matter less than the piece of a ship that probably won’t last more than a few minutes on air before serving as little more than way too large, glorified target practice for the first hostile force to spot it in the sky.

And he can’t even be up there to accompany and support his actual master, now that complete solitude could do far more harm than any good it could serve. Of all places he would’ve expected to find hell, he could’ve never fathomed in his short time as a Warframe that quiet, peaceful guarding labor would be the one, when there’s a raging battlefield down south, calling for his name and his mighty arms, and a drunken boss in orbit, slowly losing his sanity with each bottle of wine he downs into his system.


	32. XXXI: For Those that Live or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change of leadership in Oberon's team allows Betelgeuse to make a definitive resolution to himself as they assault their third dockayrd.

Now that the worst of the storm that has been coursing through all of Venus’ north pole has subsided to a far more bearable degree, a clear view of yet another dockyard is achievable from afar by Oberon’s team, that now sits on a nearby set of plains. The group shares the same position, legs gently crossed over the snow and gaze turned towards their next objective, all while waiting for Oberon to finish casting his usual dose of Renewal on an Ivara that still hasn’t fully recovered from her injuries, the gravity of the bullets she took still evident in the damage her armor took.

“You’re going to run out of energy, come on, you can stop already.” She softly whines, to which he firmly shakes his head as the others observe intently.

“The safety of the team is my priority, I cannot place your physical condition aside for the sake of saving resources.”

“I don’t want you to spend them all on me, though. What if you end up needing it for an emergency?”

“Are we currently in an emergency?” He calmly refutes, placing his open hand over the left side of her chest once again and burning through his last bits of energy as his power makes Ivara shift and fidget in discomfort “I don’t mind doing this for you in the slightest, you worry too much about me.”

“I should say the exact same thing about you, Oberon.” She quietly remarks “Look what you’ve done, you didn’t need to go out of your way to this extent for me and yet you did anyway.”

“We need to be at the top of our game to succeed in this test of endurance, after all.” He says, pulling his hand away now that his job is done and Ivara is patched up to at least a functional degree. Once she nods in agreement with his commentary, she drops to the snow, limbs lazily spread over the cold surface as her gaze looks directly into the clouds.

“There’s no need for you to do that, you can fully move now.” He points out.

“I’m tired, Oberon. I almost died back in that other place and I just want to take things with ease before we head off tomorrow, and you should do the same.”

“There is no time to rest for me, I have to keep my eyes open in case anything comes out of nowhere and tries to assault us while we are vulnerable, and I have to keep you safe-”

“Liar.” She bluntly interrupts him with slight smugness “You have Excalibur and this kid already doing that job for you, there is nothing forcing you to take on a task that’s being fulfilled by others.”

Oberon holds his chin in deep thought “Well, if that’s the case, then it means I cannot go out hunting for any soldiers that might be willing to die and let me take some energy from them, healing you completely drained me.”

Ivara redirects her gaze towards him “I-”

“Yeah, you told me, I haven’t forgotten about that. That knowledge isn’t going to bring back my energy on its own, however, I still have to work it back up somehow.”

“Fine.” She admits defeat, nearly sticking out her tongue underneath her helmet “Just try not to get into too much trouble, I won’t be there to make sure your ass doesn’t get any bumps or scratches from our foes.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to keep safe specifically that part of-”

“You know very well what I mean, just go get what you need already!” She demands in a single shout to finally send him off to do his little task while the rest stay on watch to guard their position. The remaining duo of Betelgeuse and Excalibur make sure to maintain a sharp eye as they constantly look around, only to find snow, and snow, and more snow… And then more snow.

“I miss Valkyr.” Excalibur confesses, attracting the attention of his fellow squadmates amidst such ever-encompassing boredom “She must be having a blast killing anything that moves with the rest of her team.”

“It shouldn’t be all about killing, that isn’t our only job here.” Betelgeuse joins in. “Do you even have anything else in your mind aside from pure slaughter?”

“Honestly? I wish I did.” The frame named after the fabled sword says to himself, garnering the curiosity and concern of his colleagues as they heard him speak out loud.

“What do you mean, Excalibur?” Ivara asks, slightly raising her head just to be met by him shaking his head in denial.

“That’s why I miss her.” He replies, looking south with a strange sense of melancholy, ignoring the eyes fixed on him and the oddity of his antics. However, Ivara doesn’t take long to go back to her previous business, mindlessly resting on the snow. There will always be some things she won’t be meant to know, even if she can infer them with just their words, and even if she figures them out, she’ll be happy not telling them to anyone but herself. That fact alone brings a smile to her face.

And if there’s anyone that needs to see it right now, it has to be Oberon. The elk (or bull, depending on who you ask) doesn’t exactly have any problems moving through the thickness of the snowlands covering his feet and the not so brutal, but still annoying weather. However, that’s where the issue lies, he’s faced nothing so far that would impede his advance, which goes completely against his original plans to find any Corpus scum unlucky enough to cross his path. Maybe the forecast still isn’t ideal for their flimsy human bodies, maybe he’s still too far away, or maybe they’re just scared of what might be roaming around the fields after hearing the news of the recent attacks in the previous two dockyards. Any of those options offer the exact same result, one that doesn’t want to face due to the mix of annoyance and sheer necessity for a quick target to dispose of in order not to begin the next dockyard raid without any energy reserves.

It is a relief, thus, when he finds a clumsy little guy making his way through the cold plains surrounding his workplace, a gift from the heavens that washes off his worries like a cold, refreshing splash of spring water to his being after a long day of hard work, However, that pleasure is followed by a sour taste in his mouth, and a frown, when he notices the mighty company the worker shares in the form of one of those bulky, heavily armed guards that Ivara had the fortune, or rather lack thereof, of facing in their previous encounter.

That should at the very least make things a little more interesting, if a bit excruciating. Oberon’s steady pace redoubles as he hops through the unease of the terrain, landing back on flatter ground and finding himself a mere few yards away from his quick, easy energy sources that haven’t noticed him yet. His hopes not to be detected reach an all-time high as he makes a few, quiet skips through the soft white under his feet, and meets up with his targets by swiftly placing a firm hold over the juggernaut’s neck with his staff, pushing him down to just require a precise whack with the sharp tip of his weapon to bring the little guy down defenseless.

And then it happens again. His foot gives up under the weight of his stance, right when he thought he had full control of his momentum, but this time it’s the right one instead of the left that has bothered him up to this very moment. It can’t be by a lack of skill, martials arts is a craft that he’s mastered for who knows how long, a simple posture wouldn’t be his weakness in a moment as critical as this. Yet here he is, slowly falling to the snow due to the rush of adrenaline in his racing mind, his previous easy prey now long gone, a mere silhouette that loses size the further away it gets in Oberon’s field of vision. The only possible source of energy he has left is also the last one he wanted to face, even out of obligation, and that thing’s already back on their feet, while he certainly isn’t. At least holding himself up with his staff making for an improvised pole stops him from making a full landing on Venus’ cold facade.

Since Warframes aren’t meant to be helpless, Oberon is back up to his feet in a heartbeat, as unsteady or unreliable as they may be, and ready to face the bulk of armed metal that doesn’t seem pleased to have been surprised like that. Perhaps it wasn’t their birthday, after all. Both feats of science face off, the Corpus bastard snickering at the clumsiness of his adversary, and the walking piece of Helminth might spinning his staff not as a show of skill, but to figure out why it feels so unbalanced along with those legs of his that he seemingly can’t trust anymore.

He won’t have much more time to tweak anything, though, as a bullet he barely dodges, lifts the snow from the ground and raises a thin trail of vapor between the two of them. This fierceness is uncommon amongst the Corpus Oberon has known and fought against for so long up to this point, finally understanding how it is that Ivara came so close to dying that time. An extra pair of rounds fully awakens his senses, forcing an awkward stance from him just to avoid taking any damage, and then another pair of bullets is fired, which makes him relinquish any kind of offensive advantage and roll out of any danger. His expertise alone makes up for the extreme imbalance of his limbs, as if they weren’t even under his control as they flail around with his best efforts to stay unscathed.

At the very least they pay off, as soon as his eyes catch an empty magazine falling to the ground, an opportunity announcing itself for him to make the most of it. Thus, in spite of his battle against his sudden clumsiness, he grabs the staff finely tuned for warfare with both of his hands, and jumps into action while his opponent is still busy reloading. The Corpus hulk of metal is caught off-guard, their shields brought down after a powerful pair of swings from Oberon, and their lack of speed doesn’t help matters in the slightest for them either, the weight of their weaponry holding them back from posing any kind of threat in melee combat while they take one or two more hits to their thick armor, the only effective line of defense they have at the face of an onslaught of this magnitude.

Their hand-to-hand encounter is lengthened by a standstill, as Oberon jumps over another slow jab from the Corpus heavy soldier, slamming down with full strength at the protected head of the trooper with his staff that reaches the peak of its momentum mere inches from making contact. The impact is enough to plant the alloy of the helmet itself against the soldier’s head, forcing a concussion that brings them into deadly unconsciousness while Oberon doesn’t manage to land properly, stumbling down to his knees despite having achieved victory.

As much as he wants to feel relieved for his success, his weakened muscles remind him of his uncanny situation, as he stands up feeling weight that wasn’t there before. A quick, strong lunge of his staff through the soldier’s vulnerable neck is enough to finish them off and conclude the encounter, a puddle of blood forming underneath the now lifeless Corpus heavy guard with a thick, unending hemorrhage surging from their improvised tracheostomy while their executioner lowers to a knee and begins extracting energy from their systems and equipment. In comparison to what he would’ve gotten out of that small, puny and fidgety guard, this more than fills up his reserves and gives him all the security he needs to feel calm about the future status of his companions, letting him ignore for an instant that his muscles are playing him an awful prank.

Getting up, he does his best to keep himself from looking like a newborn deer still trying to learn how to use its legs, a bitterly ironic position to be in. The trek back to the rest of his squad proves to be a greater test of willpower than the fight he just had, even if it doesn’t cover a distance superior to a mile, and halfway through, he’s unable to drag himself onward much further, giving in to this strange force holding him back and bringing him to his knees. And that’s when it hits him.

Instead of a rush of pain, a sense of intense relief washes over both sides of his self-treacherous being, aided by the once refreshing feel of the snow underneath. Confused, he looks himself over to find nothing strange, not even any kind of bruises or injuries, just his armor in his Prime form, as he’s been used to seeing for the last few weeks. The plating is solid as ever, the surface doesn’t look any less opaque than he’s accustomed to, and there aren’t any key issues or irregularities worth pointing out, not even a single bump or scratch that stands out from the rest. There isn’t anything that would indicate a clear origin for this sudden situation of his and its peculiar outcome, it’s just him as he ponders amidst the relaxation of all tension that once held his full potential back in such a blatant fashion.

He’s abruptly interrupted by that all too familiar ring in his interface, signaling a call that’s waiting for him to pick up. The voice that comes next is distinctively gentle in its subtone, Ivara’s if it wasn’t obvious to him already, although she comes in without any optimism or cheerfulness about his impending return:

“Oberon, what the hell is taking you so long? It shouldn’t be an issue for you at all to fight any of those Corpus little guys.” She comments.

“I’ll be there soon, don’t worry. There was just one thing that caught me off-guard, but I already dealt with it.

“If you get here and I find out that was a lie, I’m going to try my best to break your legs myself, you hear me?” She threatens, audibly pissed off.

And it might not even be necessary after all, given the worst-case scenario that his present circumstances could offer.

“Yes, I hear you, and I would love to see you try and live up to that.” He remarks, earning himself a half-flustered, half-frustrated huff through the call “Stay safe until I’m there in a minute or two.”

He hangs up right after, finding his legs to have recovered to a usable degree during his conversation. The rest of the way back to his group proves to be as uneventful as he expected, filled with sights as engaging as endless snow-coated fields, endless snow-coated hills, and to knock his socks off, endless snow-coated mountain ranges decorating the horizon. Venus definitely lacks the breathtaking charm of planets with pure, empowering natural beauty like Earth, an ironic image to be given to the world named after the goddess of love herself. It is no surprise that he’s grown weary of seeing it everywhere he goes after many days in a row of constant journeying and travelling through the exact same landscape type spread across the surface of almost the entire planet, even the most seasoned veteran in tasks of this caliber would find themselves bored and tired of monotony to this aggravating degree.

In times like these, any company is welcome, be it friendly to feel like part of a collective, or hostile to shake things up a little, and luckily for Oberon, he can brag about the former if he ever has to. His party sits around, calm as they were before his departure,and they welcome him with waving hands and the joy of seeing him make a safe return.

“There you are, finally.” Ivara says, sitting up just to receive him with open arms as he crosses his legs and assumes the same posture as her.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, there was an unforeseen variable that held me back from arriving as early as I should have.”

“Heavily armed escort for your prey, may I assume?”

“How could you tell?” The elk frame questions her with slight surprise.

“Two of them left me at the brink of death, I would know better than anybody else here how much of a pain in the ass they are, and they didn’t even have to shoot me there to make that clear.”

“At least they filled my energy reserves back up to their maximum capacity, so I guess I should thank them for that.”

The rest of the party nods in agreement, looking around themselves in the midst of their almost sleep-inducing waiting session that refuses to see an end until the dead of night. By the time the stars show themselves in their ever-lingering beauty, the party has gathered themselves, and feel readier than they’ll ever be to head out into yet another successful escapade.

All except for Oberon, ironically enough. This whole time, he’s remained the same way, the same position since he arrived, while the others prepare for what’s to come.

“Aren’t you coming, Oberon?” Ivara nudges him gently on the thigh with the tip of her foot.

“I don’t know if my current physical condition is optimal for me to lead the charge this time.”

“What do you mean by that?”  
  


“While I was fighting that big Corpus guy earlier today, my legs suddenly lost their strength and gave up under me, and I had to temporarily remove my focus from the battle just to bring myself up again. The rest of the bout made itself more challenging with this single factor alone, and it only faded away once it was over and I could fall to my knees in peace.”

The frames speechlessly look at him, or rather his back, while Ivara goes around him until she’s able to directly face him.

“You are tired.” She solemnly declares, planting a fingertip against the surface of his helmet.

“That lines up with what we saw in our previous raid, when he almost tripped over and fell without much rhyme or reason behind it.” Excalibur says.

“See? You’re overexerting yourself, you should try to take things easy for once or your condition may worsen.”

“We’re about to head out on a mission, Ivara.” Oberon says, failing to share her sentiment “I don’t think there’s any room to allow myself to rest even if I wanted to.”

The party thus gathers around and begins thinking on his behalf, taking into account there is no way they could simply leave him out of the group even temporarily when his contribution is way too vital to be ignored.

“We could leave it up to chance if needed.” Excalibur remarks.

“There is no chance, Excalibur. He has to stay with us regardless of what would be best for him in current condition.”

“Why don’t we let him take a support role instead?” Betelgeuse suggests, attracting the attention of his three comrades towards himself “Y-you know, because a leadership position can be very exhausting…”

“That is actually a decent idea,” Ivara says, letting him brush all worries aside “but we need to figure out who’s going to lead the charge while he steps aside.”

“Rock paper scissors to decide?” Excalibur asks, bringing his closed fist forward.

“It’s not that simple, we’re taking a measured risk here by choosing who’s going to step forward and guide us through, we can’t sort that out by doing something so trivial.”

“Let the kid call the shots this time.” Oberon adds to the discussion, getting up to his feet and stretching his shoulders. While the rest give the suggestion its fair share of consideration, Betelgeuse struggles to believe what he just heard, looking at the others and their lack of rejection with utter confusion, nearly embracing his modified Vectis in a desperate search for sudden comfort, or any kind of empathy.

“Why him?” Ivara asks “I think I might fulfill the role better than him or Excalibur.”

“He will do a good job. trust me, he just needs a little push to get him going.”

“So. Betelgeuse, will you be able to do this?” Excalibur questions his capabilities, as he looks at all of them with slight terror, struggling to keep control of his heavy breaths as it becomes longer, more focused, and a little shaky. Upon finding himself unable to arm himself with the valor to offer a response, he looks down, while the rest patiently wait for his confirmation or his denial, forcing the judging gazes of three different veterans down on him and his hesitancy. His lips part, but not even a single word comes out, he’s been effectively muted by his own cowardice, and by now even the stars above his head glare him down with disdain for his indecision. 

Here stands a speechless frame, capable not of even assuming a basic position of leadership, bestowed upon him by mere merit that he doesn’t recognize even if the thickest lense in the whole universe was placed before his eyes. His lungs do all the work, speaking volumes about his status in silence as he stays petrified, unrecognizable from a statue weren’t it for the signs of life he still lets out. It might be the opportunity he’s been waiting for all this time and he didn’t know it until now, but he can’t even say anything about it, overwhelmed by shock, although it’s finally wearing out.

“And well?” Ivara tries to snap him back into reality, only to come back to the same lack of any kind of response to work with. If his words aren’t going to do their job, then it’s time for him to find another method and get this dealt with already, as he gains some control over himself and turns around, long dark coat flying by the wind passing through, and takes a few steps forward that slowly turn into a firm, steady march towards the dockyard that’s been awaiting their assault far too long. The rest of the group know what to do in that case, and follow suit, staying behind as he leads the advance without a single complaint, and Oberon looks at him with quiet approval.

The short, firm steps quickly turn into a light jog and then a mad dash towards the wall, the other frames keeping up and making sure the healer in their party doesn’t get too far behind. They don’t remain undetected for too long, but that little matters to them, when by now, they know Corpus would’ve grown cautious to the point of obsession thanks to their less than welcome antics in their two previous heists. Running out of functioning dockyards would obviously demand harsher security measures to be established.

The height of the walls doesn’t pose any kind of obstacle for the Warframes that simply have to climb upwards, arriving at a hasty set of factories that have hundreds of workers fleeing and making room for the stationed garrison, and the crushing realization that hits the entirety of the team at once: They might be royally screwed as a whole for the first time in this expedition.

If Oberon’s encounter with that juggernaut was to indicate anything, it must have been that Corpus will not joke around anymore. The garrison is stacked with heavier equipment than normal, and an abnormally high amount of heavy firearms that far outnumbers those that have been forced to stick with electrified batons, and that’s not even it. The heavy soldiers that have been assigned to guarding and defending duties aren’t limited to two this time around, they now represent a fearsome force of eleven selected men that have been brought to reinforce the place into an impervious fortress until their grand project is finished, and they don’t have a single gram of the terror their lesser fellows are showing.

If just a pair of them managed to get Ivara all messed up, fighting a near-dozen would be an absolute nightmare, if not outright impossible.... That would be if it weren’t for the heavy equipment the frames have spared for occasions this special.

A few high-caliber rounds have been waiting for a moment like this. As Corpus opens fire, the frames begin running at top speed through the top of the wall, juggling their special equipment around, along with another surprise they’ve been saving up since they began the expedition, even if the sensation of the piece of metal and craftsmanship is rather awkward when it’s constantly hitting Betelgeuse’s back amidst his sprint. The bulletstorm sent his team’s way makes matters all that much more uncomfortable to handle at once, many projectiles grazing his feet while others make it barely past his shoulders and the back of his head as he avoids any contact with the unconscious grace that only a Warframe could achieve, which only lasts for so long before they meet a dead end that forces them to jump down into the less than hospitalary sight of hundreds of soldiers led by the heavier troopers that remain as worrying of a threat as ever.

In times of need, it’s always a nice gesture to give without being asked, so Oberon offers many of the Corpus soldiers a light to warm themselves up with his Smite, even if that also happens to set the rest of their bodies ablaze and eventually kills them. Their corpses make up for all the energy he spent on this attack, whilst allowing his party a relatively safer landing as they keep dodging the reckless gunfire of enemy railguns and heavy machine guns that turns into a messy crossfire against the more defenseless Corpus warriors of standard issue, forcing an impromptu standstill that allows the frames to tear through the remains of the force that hasn’t fled yet. 

However, that’s the key detail, there isn’t much left to push through in spite of the numbers they formerly saw, and they didn’t even kill more than a few dozen. The only opposing forces remaining are a few brave souls to accompany the still standing steel-clads , while the rest can be seen running in all directions, some as far away from the invaders as they can while others simply try to keep a certain amount of distance that likely won’t get them killed in one hit. Nothing is guaranteed apart from death when it’s time to deal with a hostile Warframe force upfront. Maybe that makes the bravery of those that stay that much more impressive, willing to foolishly stand their ground when the incarnations of Death itself have come to claim their lives, and to even look at it in the eyes and spit in its face to prove their worth when everyone else has long left.

So when their arms are raised, their weapons follow, lethal defiance making itself evident as the frames stumble over themselves and prepare for a test of their evasion skills to remind them of just how vulnerable they can become upon facing a worthy adversary.

“Is it ready yet, kid?” Oberon demands an answer as the barrage finally comes their way and forces them back on the run.

“Not yet, I need to make a few adjustments or this thing will be toast after firing the first round!”

“Then hurry!” Ivara urges him as she steps forward and takes a few bullets to her shields, formerly directed at the improvised artillery specialist of the group. When she sees him shocked and paralyzed by her selflessness, she tackles him out of the way, barely keeping him up on his feet, and squeezing his shoulders tight.

“Stop wasting your time and finish this already!” She yells at the top of her lungs, taking another magazine to her back until her shields are fully knocked off of her. With his fight-or-flight senses fully triggered, he shoves her out of the way and speeds up his preparations, hasty scramble ensuing with the pieces of his special weapon that refuses to cooperate under pressure while the rest of the team has fallen into desperation under his command. They basically take turns to give him cover without communicating anything to each other, as his hands keep moving at a million miles per hour over that single bunch of pieces of metal patched up together to make for the instrument of their salvation, and finally, that glorious click that sends a sharp wave of overwhelming ecstasy through his body makes its way to the ears of the others. The hand cannon is ready, bullet loaded into the weapon that so eerily resembles something he would carry with no issues whatsoever if he had an Archwing attached to his waist, and just in time for his ears to get pierced and his heart to drop.

Ivara screams again, and he can see small drops of blood practically floating in the air, just in time for her to make him room to take the shot as she arches her back down and gives in to the rush of pain while her shoulder starts bleeding. The enemy redirects their aim towards his exposed head, clear of anything or anyone that might get in the way, and all that’s left between both sides is a load of cold air and a world’s worth of tension challenging time itself.

And before he can catch his breath, triggers are pulled, and a deadly row of machine gun and railgun bullets are sent his way. He could open his arms and welcome his demise, become the martyr this system needs, but it won’t be necessary this time, as another rush of blood flies through the wind, coming from a see-through hole in a soldier’s abdomen that proceeds to drop dead right after. The second the rest of the vanguard looks behind their backs, a massive explosion emerges from the ground as the projectile makes contact with something it cannot pierce, and covers them in deadly fire and sulfur that blasts their shields off and knocks them down with the strength of the blast, giving the frames all the time in the universe to pick themselves up and rush into the main factory building nearly stumbling back down on their faces due to the thrill of the moment. Oberon even slips on the snow and falls back to his knees as he’s about to reach the entrance and forces himself to crawl inside, the iron curtain dropped behind his back once he’s in with the rest of the team.

The sudden peace they experience by looking down empty hallways cannot be compared with anything else, as Betelgeuse finally has some time to stand there and let the adrenaline slowly fade away with each deep breath that he takes. Excalibur doesn’t look any different, Oberon stands next to Ivara, while she leans against the wall, covering it with the blood of her still open wound.

“I told you to take it easy, Oberon.” She complains while he places his hand on her shoulder and casts Renewal.

“It was a life-or-death situation, I had no choice but to keep up with you people.”

Ivara sighs, resting her head against his shoulder while he keeps doing his work, as the other two frames stare at the scene with the inherent need to cough loudly and break the awkwardness of the situation.

“Get a room, you two.” Excalibur says in an attempt to lift up the mood.

“Honestly, Excalibur, I’m surprised you didn’t lose your mind and jumped those soldiers on sight.” Oberon comments.

“I still have some common sense to know they would’ve slaughtered me in seconds.” Excalibur replies, staring at the elk and his patient.

In truth, he’s internally just as surprised, wondering how he’s still intact after that confrontation. Perhaps there remains a semblance of self-control and self-preservation left in him, despite the clear split between his true wishes and the actions he ends up committing, regardless of how much longer it may last before he’s completely lost it.

“You did well out there, kid.” Oberon says, garnering the attention of a distracted (and now startled) Betelgeuse.

“T-thank you, sir!” He hastily scrambles for a fitting reply, bowing down just to get straightened up by Oberon himself.

“Save the gestures for later, we still have a power source to blow up. Now, people, let’s follow his lead and finish this raid before we get more fools on our asses.”

Now that Ivara’s shoulder has fully recovered, Oberon backs away and gives her some space to grab her bow and look into the hallway before them, just as empty as it was when they first came in. However, the entrance behind their backs won’t last forever, so they’re back on the run as soon as everyone’s gathered their things, finally in the search for that engine room without having to face the deadly threat of a couple of heavy units in a tight corridor.

That is, of course, until they find more than a few Fusion Moas roaming around, their numbers increasing the deeper they get into the facility. They’re nowhere near as tough as the soldiers they had to fight outside, so they’re exponentially easier to dispose of, but it’s undeniable that they’re a constant nuisance that hinders their advance to a great measure and delays them to the point that they’re able to hear the entrance finally get torn down for Corpus to make their way back into their own workplace and try to kick out the intruders.

The space the frames have given to themselves should give them more than enough time to finish their job, now that they’ve arrived at the engine room. Those expectations are shattered, however, as soon as they enter and find the structure sealed behind a solid steel vault, which by the looks of it, may be able to resist an explosion as heavy as the one the frames could deliver with the bombs they carry.

“Well, this might be quite the impediment.” Oberon comments, passing his hand over the smooth metallic surface of their obstacle “Any ideas for how we’re going to deal with this?”

The lack of a positive response from his fellow frames sure seems like quite the bummer to him, until Betelgeuse meekly raises his hand on the back and steps forward.

“We could use the anti-vehicle projectiles again. It might be an unorthodox usage of that ammunition, but I don’t know if we can do anything else here.”

“It is worth giving a shot, at the very least. Let’s back away, people.”

Everyone but Betelgeuse exits the room, just to hear the heavy footsteps that indicate they don’t have that much time left, as they slowly get louder and louder the closer they are.

“Don’t take too long in there, kid.” Oberon reminds Betelgeuse, standing in front of the group outside the room even though he shouldn’t. Meanwhile, Betelgeuse lives up to his word and begins arming the anti-vehicle weapon once again, loading it with another bullet the size of a small dagger and aiming somewhere the impact would have a larger effect, taking a deep breath and praying for the Lord to do their bidding with this shot.

And when it lands, it explodes, knocking off his shields and pushing him back to the wall with the strength of the blast. The rest of the party rushes inside to check on his status, just to find him totally fine aside from the slight daze product of the impact he took, and when they avert their gaze to the settling smoke, they find a hole more than large enough to fit his arm and the explosive inside.

Unwilling to waste even one more single precious second, Oberon and Ivara pull him forward while he fully regains his senses, pushing the explosive device along with the controller into his hands. By the time he’s back in the present, he realizes what he has to do, and pushes his arm into the hole, planting the device against the engine behind the steel cube and backing away now that the deed is done.

“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here now!” He powerfully commands, practically jumping out of the room and running back into the hallways, followed by the rest of his team until they come upon the platoon of juggernauts that was searching for them. With nothing but more hallway behind their backs and basically nowhere to run, the frames know they have no choice but to take the fight, as hard as it may end up being.

“Are you scared, Ivara?” Oberon asks as she stands behind him.

“Don’t confuse caution with fear, I know what could happen to me if I stay in the front.”

“Just stay with us and you’ll be fine, even Excalibur hasn’t separated from the group yet.”

“I’m not an idiot, Oberon.” Excalibur declares in a deadpan tone, drawing his blade and preparing for battle once again. The rest of the team grab their weapons as well, trying to seem as menacing as possible to avoid a battle that would only waste their time even further, especially with foes as worrisome as these, that don’t even give them a break to draw out a plan before they shower the entire place with bullet rounds.

“Time to give them hell, guys!” Betelgeuse shouts, and the frames are on the move again, jumping on the walls and throwing themselves onto the enemy before they can process the speed of their movements, just for Ivara to get blasted away by a railgun shot, falling into Oberon’s arms. Excalibur finds himself deeply riled up by the thrill of danger, landing hard on a soldier’s head and pushing him down to the floor while the rest prepare to open fire, just for their shields to be sent away with a few shots of Ivara’s Artemis bow.

And when they thought it was over, one of their comrades drops dead on the spot, his skull split open, and fragments fly out of his spilling brain and pierce through their eyes before they even get a chance to blink, killing four more right on the spot while the rest back away. That’s barely the beginning, as Excalibur has finished the first stage of his rampage on the poor guy he took down that’s now been reduced to nothing but a bloody pile of spilled organs and entrails, and he’s looking at the once brave troopers with deadly intent, now that they’ve devolved into a full-on rout while they shoot back to avoid getting pursued. It is to no avail.

In a matter of seconds, the pursuers have become the pursued, while the frames speed up their fierce chase as they ignore the many hits and wounds they do take from stray rounds product of Corpus desperation. Excalibur pays no mind when his knee nearly gets blown away, Ivara huffs and powers through the agony of the bullets that make it both into and through her body, Betelgeuse leads the advance despite his grunts and cries of pain with each round he takes, and Oberon remains in the back of the group, maintaining Renewal in order for them to even stand a chance. The light at the end of the corridor is finally visible, as both groups burst out with another heavy soldier dropping lifeless on the ground with many bullet wounds in his chest. As the others get to their feet, a strong flash of light renders them blind, sending them into further panic with their ears being the only sense they can rely on to stay alive.

However, if there’s a valuable lesson to learn now of all times, it’s that the ears can betray anyone when they’re dealing with a Warframe. Before their eyes can distinguish anything amongst the perpetual blur, they hear the cry of another dying man, just for it to be followed by the clearly audible carnage of someone getting dismembered piece by piece. When their vision is fully functional again, Excalibur stands on top of the ravaged remains of another corpse, covered in blood from head to toes, and they’re his next and last trio of of targets to rush down with unsated bloodlust, a threat that reaches a screeching halt as soon as they open fire and bring him to a stop product of the sudden pile of injuries to deal with, many bullets turning him into even more of a bloody mess. It goes even further when he’s knocked into the ground by a railgun shot, a massive hole the size of his fist left to fill the gap formed by the shot in the right side of his midriff.

As soon as they think they’ll be able to deliver the killing blow, the railgun wielder’s aim is thrown off by an arrow that makes it through his elbow, and another into his throat that leaves him clutching onto the projectile while gasping for breath. Further arrows hit him into many other body parts until he’s effectively dead, leaving only a pair of machine gun wielders to fend for themselves.

And it doesn’t even take a few seconds to turn into one, when a powerful sniper shot makes it through the reinforced helmet of one of the soldiers and sends his brain flying through the air until they’re splattered all over the snow.

“What did I say? You stayed with us, and now you’re totally fine.” Oberon smugly remarks.

“Yeah, but only because you were patching us up the whole time, you should’ve seen the mess we were leaving behind in that hallway.” Ivara responds, keeping an eye on the last guy remaining and the rush of cowardice that overwhelms him. “I bet your energy reserves are completely empty after having to constantly heal us along the way.”

“Their corpses will make up for any amount of energy I might have spent in that chase.”

“Make sure to do it quickly, we can’t stay here for much longer.” Betelgeuse commands, dropping a depleted magazine on the ground and reloading in an effort to beat Excalibur to the final kill, and he succeeds, using another portion of energy to charge a shot that goes through the last soldier’s helmet as if it was thin air, ending the last Corpus heavy soldier’s life before they can get a chance to retaliate.

Dead silence covers the scenery, as dozens of scaredy soldiers stand around and watch the frames move around and loot the corpses of their fallen superiors, yet still unwilling to stand for themselves. They raise their arms and their weapons to appear a force that could defend themselves when Betelgeuse approaches them, but he simply ignores them, not even backing away a single inch when they start gathering around him.

“Lower your weapons, you assholes, we’re not going to do anything to you!” He exclaims at the top of his lungs.

“Are you sure about that?” Oberon questions him.

“Yes I am, we’ve done enough here and it’s clear that these people don’t want to die.”

“I thought you didn’t want to waste any more time here, escorting these people out of the facility would only delay us from leaving as soon as possible.”

“We don’t need to kill those that haven’t shown any resistance, they at least deserve a chance to make it out of here alive.”

“Just make sure they behave while they’re leaving.” Oberon politely requests, to which Betelgeuse nods as he sets the team near the entrance for all Corpus personnel to make a controlled exit. In rows of ten, soldiers and workers alike make their way out into the snowy fields of Venus, as inhospitable as ever, but still far more tasteful than sudden death at the hands of the Warframes and their unhinged brutality. Once a crowd of hundreds, probably even nearing the thousands, has made their leave of absence, the frames are next to quit the facility, while Betelgeuse stays right in front of the main entrance, looking at the emptied structures as he twirls the detonator between his fingers. Despite the lack of victims the explosion would consume, he still cannot make the call right away and choose whether to finish his job right away or leave it standing and spit in his nature’s face in the most insulting fashion possible.

After one final glance at the empty dockyard, he looks back at his team, and the hundreds of Corpus employees that will be left to their own fate, and with a heavy sigh, he presses the button. The ground trembles violently, and the structures that once formed a grandiose workplace are consumed by fire and molten destruction in a matter of seconds, blasting them down and rendering them useless, while he simply stares, motionless aside from his deep breaths, and emotionless to the chaos that his chosen path of justice might create.

However, he knows what he has to do, and how to do it. If his task is to smite, he shall do as he’s been commanded, and burn everything and anything that opposes him. If anyone chooses to surrender and bend the knee to his will, he shall spare their lives and give them the chance to live if they’re wise enough not to challenge him and his mission. May it be from the Lotus, or the Lord above, or even for his sister’s sake, that is his unmovable will from now on.

Thus, he pities those that might defy the might of his team in the two dockyards that remain untouched, for they don’t know the horrors they will soon see with their own eyes. Those bastards shall get smited.


End file.
